


The Bones of What You Believe

by cadesama



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dysfunctional Relationships, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Multi, Recovery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-18
Updated: 2015-06-16
Packaged: 2018-03-18 12:35:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3569900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadesama/pseuds/cadesama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a galaxy where AotC played out slightly differently, the choice Miraj gives Anakin is much simpler. Save those closest to him for the low, low price of his own freedom. Six months later, Obi-Wan rescues him with potentially dire consequences for him and the war effort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I'm just gonna say right here that this is probably not the best way to handle someone in your life who has been through significant trauma.

Miraj's nails pricked at the back of Anakin's neck as she smiled up at him, the offer made.

"But you Jedi," she said pityingly, "you are so noble. I think you will stay, won't you?"

Anakin glared over the top of her head. He clenched his hand at his side. She'd returned his lightsaber to him, but he was never without a weapon. The Force was there, darker than the Zygerrian horizon and equally seeped in blood. Dawn and daybreak recalled Tatooine for Anakin, the light in the sky and the misery in the Force. But Zygerria's heat was oppressive, staled by the humidity of the tropics, while Tatooine's was savage and clean. Tatooine's winds scoured the landscape, left bones of men in the deserts and erased all that they were. It was a place to forget and to be forgotten. A decade later, he remained a creature of it.

He'd left bones behind on Tatooine and that power called his name now.

"Won't you, Skywalker?" she asked again.

He hated the sound of his name from her mouth, the way her tongue curled around it, the knowing smile he could feel without even looking. She wanted him so much, like no one in his life ever had.

Anakin thought briefly of Padme Amidala and the way the dawn light reflected in her eyes at Varykino, smiling up at him sleepily. He forced the thought away. He would not think of what could have been.

He was a Jedi. It was all he was.

"You'll free them."

His voice sounded hoarse in his own ears.

"But of course. That is the offer."

Anakin jerked his head down, snarling as he pushed he hands off of him, finger jabbed in her face.

"All of them. Not just Obi-Wan and Rex, but all of the colonists from Kyros and my Padawan."

Miraj's face lit.

"Padawan?" She laughed merrily. "Oh, but that is terrible. I had no idea that little skug was your Padawan."

She spoke is if it was another filthy joke like the one he'd told her in her throne room, only a day before when he took on the confidence of another name, when he was foolish enough to think he'd make a slaver kneel before him.

Miraj prowled forward again, hand on his chest as she brushed a kiss onto his cheek.

"But I must make a profit somehow. The Jedi, yes. Your clone," she made a disgusted noise. "He is also free. But the slaves of Kyros are mine, Skywalker."

Miraj settled her head on his shoulder. Behind them both, the beast they'd flown on squawked as two of her house slaves tried to wrangle it to return it to the stables. It extended its wings, knocking one to the side, and a Zygerrian strode forward in disgust. He took a control out of his pocket and shocked the beast into submission, collar sparking and sizzling against leathery skin.

"I thought that I was yours," he replied, looking down at Miraj.

She drew patterns on his armor with her fingers, smiling to herself.

"You drive a hard bargain, Anakin Skywalker."

He needed her to stop saying his name. He wanted it to mean something at the end of this.

If there was an end.


	2. Chapter 2

"Clear!" Cody shouted.

The clones moved the line forward, blasters held steady as they advanced down the smoky corridor. Obi-Wan picked his way through the wreckage behind them, angry with himself for the position. It was a horribly easy mission, now that they took it on, and he could easily lead from the front.

Cody hadn't been willing to hear of it. Not losing another general, he'd said. And it was his job to find Anakin, anyway.

"Republic skugs," a Zygerrian hissed as he stepped out before the squad.

Cody snapped off two quick shots and the man fell, hole in his metal armor edged in red that cooled swiftly to black. The scent of cooked flesh seared the air and Obi-Wan did nothing to dispel it; his intent in the Force was far more focused.

He could not sense him at all, and yet he was not untethered in the Force. The bond remained and he knew that Anakin lived.

It was worrying. Indeed, there had not been a day since he was released from Kadavo that he had not worried, the pit of fear in his stomach almost companionable for its well-earned familiarity.

He'd made many promises to Anakin, to Qui-Gon, and to the Force. And yet he'd left Anakin in the custody of a slaver, had slept in his own bed knowing Anakin remained on this world, had allowed battles to be fought and months to pass without doing a single damn thing to fix it.

And then he'd awoken with clarity of vision. He'd not stand for this anymore. Zygerria would burn if that is what it took, but he'd have Anakin back at his side.

"Sir?" Cody asked. He sidled to Obi-Wan's position, blaster still held at the ready. Obi-Wan could feel his hard gaze through his helmet, the eagerness he'd just barely leashed thrumming in the Force. "Do you have a fix?"

"It's not quite the same as a sensor lock, Cody," Obi-Wan replied.

Cody waited for something more useful for that. Further down the corridor, troopers shouted as a group of guards rounded the corner, exchanging fire. Obi-Wan turned a mild look toward them to watch. The deaths were satisfying.

"The Queen's chambers," he said after a long moment, deducing the answer with logic rather than the Force. He watched a clone walk to a felled Zygerrian, pushing him onto his back with his foot. He raised his blaster and shot again, just to be sure. Obi-Wan turned back to Cody. "That is where we shall find him."

* * *

 

Anakin looked up as soon as Obi-Wan entered the medbay, tense and hyperaware as his eyes followed Obi-Wan. His broken arm was in a bacta brace, the scrapes along his high cheekbones already healing. The mottled bruising from the shockcollar Miraj had kept him in was yet to fade. Obi-Wan knew it would be weeks.

Anakin forced the corner of his mouth upward.

"Don't look too happy to see me, Master," he said. There was a hitch in his tone on the word, a swirl in the Force that Obi-Wan only barely caught the edge of.

"I'm very pleased to have you back, Anakin," Obi-Wan replied. "Try not to let it happen again."

Anakin rolled his shoulders and twisted to the side, stretching his back, before settling his feet back on the floor. He was at Obi-Wan side soon enough, mechnohand firm on Obi-Wan's back, reassuring, as if he'd been the one left in a slaver's custody these past several months.

"Don't worry. Wouldn't dream of it."

Obi-Wan nodded briskly. He was, of course, rather concerned about the state Anakin was truly in. For all that he'd not been in the presence of other Jedi for some time, his shields were still strong, tightened up with a kind of reflectivity that meant Obi-Wan got little out of probing except the sense of attempting the same. Anakin was hardly the most loquacious when it came to the matters they truly needed to discuss, but he was hesitant to push.

Back at the Temple, he decided. In the Halls of Healing. He would need more attention than the Emdee droid could provide, regardless, and that was plenty of opportunity to find a facilitator who would get Anakin to actually talk about his experiences with Miraj.

In the meantime, there were other matters to attend to, like the yawn cracking Anakin's jaw.

"Perhaps this adventure was a bit much for you?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Perhaps," Anakin acknowledged. He made no move back to the medbay bed. "Getting off that rock was a job of work."

"Primarily my own."

He'd been the one to fell Miraj. He could almost smell her burnt flesh even now, seared fur trailing fine wisps of smoke into the air as his blade slid through her gut and upward. He would not soon forget the look on her face, anger and startlement. He'd knelt next to her, listening to her words as she died, gazing into those cruel, yellow eyes.

Obi-Wan had only felt that satisfaction in killing once before, only held one other in his arms as he died, telling him exactly how to care for another.

Maul had died by the stroke of his saber blade as surely as Miraj had, yet she had more in common with Qui-Gon, in that final moment. She'd touched him, told him to take care of what was hers. Bequeathed Anakin with the savagery of all slavers.

Obi-Wan resisted the urge to touch his cheek. He'd healed the cut her nails left on his face and knew it was no longer visible.

Anakin was watching him, eyes avid despite the exhaustion plain on his face.

"You should rest," Obi-Wan said gently. "Do not make me Force suggest you."

"Wouldn't work."

Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows at Anakin. For all that he'd not Force suggested Anakin since he was a child, he was quite sure Anakin was in no state to resist.

He felt his stomach drop at the thought. He had not been in any state to resist for some time. Miraj had been very clear about all that she'd done with him, to him.

No. He would not do that to Anakin. He would rest or not – most likely he would, involuntarily simply because sleep cared little for one's free will when it had been denied for so long. But it would not be Obi-Wan's doing.

He sighed and waved at Anakin to follow him.

"Come on, my quarters are precisely where we left them."

They passed silently through the halls of the ship, greeted at times by clone troopers and officers. They were in good spirits since the rescue. Rex had barely spoken in anything other than grunts since he and Obi-Wan had been released from Kadavo, their freedom paid for in Anakin's obedience to Miraj Scintel. His mien had taken a grim turn, orders more brusque and his eyes always wary when watching the holos of the Council as new missions came in to them. He feared the 501st being handed off to another Jedi, a repeat of Umbara, though he never voiced his concerns to Obi-Wan. It was only as the months past and Obi-Wan refused to separate the 501st from the 212th that Rex relaxed, marginally.

That his judgment was no less than Obi-Wan deserved hardly lessened it.

When they reached Obi-Wan's quarters, Anakin was quick to throw himself down on the narrow bunk pressed to one side of the room. It was a more spare living space than even his rooms at the temple – a bunk, a few small cabinets, a desk and a fresher. It was a good thing indeed that he hardly needed a closet for clothes, nor a view out of the ship. He had no porthole and the only decoration in the room was an unhealthy little sapling he'd brought from the Temple, some vague idea of brightening quarters he almost never spent time in on his mind.

Yet he had, after Anakin was captured. He'd stared at that plant for months, occasionally forcing himself to water it. It was near death, speaking to the indulgent amount of time spent in self-recriminations and brooding.

He tore his eyes away, looking back to Anakin, who rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, face hollowed with shadows cast by the antiseptic light off the corridor. Obi-Wan did not think he would stop looking at Anakin any time soon, searching for the bright presence of his former Padawan, needing to know that this was real.

He stepped into the room and hit the lumen control, flickering to life above them. Anakin looked less sallow for a brief moment, bathed in the light of two sources, and then the door whooshed shut behind Obi-Wan and Anakin fell into his shadow.

He blinked up at Obi-Wan, brow furrowed.

"Where's Ahsoka?" he asked after a long moment. He looked like he'd forgotten what he was going to say and had to work to figure out it over again, reasoning out what he was likely to ask rather than asking what he knew he wanted to know.

Obi-Wan pressed his lips together. She would likely murder him upon his return to the Temple for not bringing her along. They were quite close, even for a Master and Padawan pair so near in age to each other.

"Re-assigned."

He expected outrage rather than a slow nod.

"Makes sense. She's alright, though?"

"She appears quite well."

Silence fell between them, one that Anakin seemed determined to ignore. He pull his knee up, boot on the edge of the bed, and rolled his eyes at Obi-Wan's instant reprimand in the Force. He shuffled himself backwards to lean his back to the wall and tilted his head against it.

"You got anything to drink in this little box of a room?"

Obi-Wan huffed out an exasperated sigh – precisely on cue – and left the doorway to rifle through the small cabinet set into the foot of the bed. He'd quite a selection of alcohol, actually, acquired here and there. A fair number of bottles were gifts from liberated planets, or else jokes from Quinlan, Cody, or Anakin himself. Most has seen only an idle sip drunk from them and then, deemed too saccharine or entirely too bracing, tucked away once more.

After a moment of consideration he extracted a half empty bottle of dry Rodian gin. Anakin favored sweeter drinks, but he didn't mind the more herbal flavor of this liquor. More importantly, there was a relatively small amount left to be shared by two grown men of considerable alcohol tolerance.

He did, in fact, have clean glasses, but rather than retrieving them from his desk, he merely levered the vacuum cork open and handed the bottle to Anakin who took it with his mechnoarm. He turned the bottle in his hand, reading the label speculatively.

Obi-Wan bent to remove his boots and then joined Anakin, nudging him with his shoulder. Anakin did not move over for him and he ended up with his side pressed to Anakin's, warmth seeping pleasantly through their clothes. Anakin failed to acknowledge was he was doing as he set his injured arm carefully around Obi-Wan. He looked away from Obi-Wan to the bottle and, with a slight shrug, took a long drink from it.

He passed it to Obi-Wan who followed suit, eyes on Anakin as he drank. He settled the bottle between them, wedged against their legs.

"You don't have to talk about it," he began.

"Good."

"However, I'd like to note that you do not typically opt for drinking away your problems."

"Noted."

Anakin took another drink, eyes set on the rather close wall opposite them. His fingers remained on the bottleneck as he replaced it between them. Obi-Wan shook his head to himself and reached out in the Force, met again with nothingness.

"I do understand if you blame me."

Anakin whipped his head around to stare at Obi-Wan.

"It was my choice. I made the deal. Don't pretend you would have done anything different in my situation, Obi-Wan. It's not … it's not _special_."

Obi-Wan dipped his head in acknowledgment. There were a number of Jedi who had found themselves in similar situations, of course. Deep cover assignments that went on too long. Missions that went wrong. Self-sacrifice was taught to younglings, embraced by Jedi of all ages and different theological factions.

He would have done the same. He would have sold himself into servitude to save the lives of his friends – to save the lives of strangers – but he would not have been in Anakin's situation, because it would not have been a return to slavery.

And he would not have honored his word to Miraj, he was very sure of that. He would not have stayed under his own power.

Obi-Wan felt a jolt of disgust and anger at himself for the thought. He did not know that, had no right to blame Anakin. He sat here, bruises choking his neck, arm broken, and Obi-Wan pretended that he knew what Anakin had been through. It was vile and he had no right to it.

He let the emotions go. The felt like a bilious blot on the Force. It was worse for being one Obi-Wan himself had made, and he closed his eyes until even that sense of self-reproach faded. He needed to be better than this for Anakin's sake.

"You are," he finally said when he opened his eyes. Anakin frowned, blue eyes dark with confusion. "You are special, Anakin."

"So they tell me."

"That is hardly what I'm referring to."

Anakin flexed his fingers on Obi-Wan's shoulder. Obi-Wan felt a flash of something, quickly hidden away again behind Anakin's shields, and it was enough to make him shiver under Anakin's touch. He anticipated something, though he didn't know what, and it hardly mattered because he finally had Anakin back.

Anakin clearly did feel that from Obi-Wan. Unresponsive as he was in the Force, Obi-Wan could see it on his face, shifting from the flat, almost angrily distant expression he'd maintained to a more careful frown.

"There is something you should know," Obi-Wan said. "I am not here under orders."

Anakin's lips parted.

"I have stolen the Open Circle Fleet."

"Why?"

Obi-Wan gave a low chuckle.

"The only question is why I did not do it sooner, Anakin."

He took the bottle, Anakin's fingers slipping down the side, a kind of claim though he made no move to stop Obi-Wan. He drank another long swallow from it, satisfied by the burn of alcohol and the cloudy edges beginning to soften the world. He needed this as much as Anakin did. He soon pressed the bottle back into Anakin's hand and he considered it briefly before finishing it off. He leaned over the edge of the bed in what amounted, Obi-Wan supposed, to a demonstration of balance to set the bottle down on the floor.

And when Anakin straightened, it was to wind his mechnohand into Obi-Wan's tunics and pull him into his lap, kissing him hard. Obi-Wan closed his eyes as he opened his mouth, kissing Anakin back. He'd missed him. Force, he'd missed him.

"I thought I would die there," Anakin mumbled.

Obi-Wan had thought much the same. It was why he could no longer bear to wait for a lull in the war, for the Council to give permission.

Anakin kissed Obi-Wan raggedly, hands on his back. His fingers pressed down hard, individual points that would likely bruise. Obi-Wan shifted against him, going onto his knees to straddle Anakin. He ran his hand through Anakin's hair, holding him by the back of his head as they kissed. He ground his erection down against Anakin, only for him to break off the kiss.

"Anakin? Did I …"

He wasn't sure what he might have done, yet Anakin's reaction was worrying.

Anakin shook his head wordlessly. His cheeks were flushed under the scrapes Miraj had left on him, breathing coming fast. He bit his lip as he touched Obi-Wan, hand taking hold of Obi-Wan's. He slid their hands down Obi-Wan's stomach to his erection and then pressed against Anakin's. Obi-Wan bit back a groan at the feeling, Anakin hard and hot even through his trousers.

"Almost forgot," Anakin said, mouth twisting. Obi-Wan pulled his hand back in shock, but Anakin shook his head, saying against Obi-Wan's lips. "It's a good thing."

"It is not."

His stern tone was diminished, cut off by open mouthed kisses. Anakin ignored the sentiment, rubbing Obi-Wan through his clothes. Obi-Wan seized him by the wrist, stilling the movement.

"Anakin, no," he snapped. He met Anakin's eyes, hoping to see reason in them, rather than his own slightly drunken desire. "I shall not take advantage of you."

Anakin made a long, aggrieved noise and glared.

"Fine. Is it alright if I take advantage of you?" he asked.

Obi-Wan put his hand on Anakin's chest, relishing the feel of his heartbeat. This would be enough for him.

He found his lips moving.

"Yes."

And Anakin moved swiftly, pushing Obi-Wan down onto the bed and opening his belt. The swollen fingers of his broken arm grazed Obi-Wan's stomach as he worked Obi-Wan's trousers down, little grace or kindness to the movement. He took Obi-Wan in his hand and the first twinge of uncertainty appeared on his face before he shook it off, stroking Obi-Wan roughly. The look of concentration on his face was enough to make Obi-Wan's cock twitch, the thought that for all Anakin had been through, this was entirely new to him.

Obi-Wan let his head fall back, wondering exactly how it was that the Jedi did not believe in hell. He'd need to consult a Sith on precisely where he'd be going.

Anakin rest his injured hand on Obi-Wan's thigh, thumb rubbing back and forth idly as he leaned in to kiss and suck Obi-Wan's stomach.

"I've wanted to do this for a while," he said as he looked up at Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan petted his hair and raised an eyebrow at him.

"Do not tell me how long."

He wasn't going to think about Anakin's age while he sucked Obi-Wan's cock. That was not something that would happen.

Anakin affected an innocent look, all too real on his exhausted, injured features.

"Since I was a teenager."

Which could have been two years or five or even longer and Obi-Wan shut down that line of thought as soon as Anakin dragged his wet mouth down to his cock, enveloping it. Feeling dizzy and knowing it not the alcohol, Obi-Wan propped himself on his elbow to watch. His breathing was loud in his own ears, but it didn't mask the sounds Anakin was making – wet and pleased and entirely too desperate. Anakin pulled back, full lips around the tip of Obi-Wan's cock as he tongued across it. Obi-Wan cursed and wound his fingers into the sheets of the bed, forcing himself not to buck forward as Anakin did it again.

"I –" he stopped himself before he said the words. "I missed you, Anakin."

Anakin hummed and, finally, something peeked through his shields. Obi-Wan's heart beat faster at even that small sliver of feeling, undefinable but so very Anakin. It was just his presence and it was hard not to ache at the realization that, even with him back, he hadn't feel him at all until now.

Anakin ducked down and hollowed his cheeks as he sucked, eyes locked on Obi-Wan's.

It was too much. He threw himself backward as Anakin continued to lick up his length, head bobbing as he worked up and down him.

"I didn't do this for – you don't need to do this, Anakin," Obi-Wan said as he panted. He could feel his release building and struggled to speak, to say these things before it was too late. "I didn't come here for this. I just wanted you back, Anakin. I need you."

It was the least Jedi-like thing he'd said since he told the Council where they could stuff their orders and absconded with the fleet. He was babbling now, he knew it, the feeling of Anakin in the Force almost overwhelming him. Obi-Wan tensed under Anakin, hips jerking and Anakin pulled off just in time for Obi-Wan's come to splatter across his face.

Obi-Wan's chest heaved as he stared at Anakin. He'd not meant to do that at all, but Anakin looked satisfied, bruised lips parted as he tried to control his own breathing. His cock strained the front of his trousers, leaking against the material.

"You need me?" Anakin asked. Obi-Wan shut his eyes. He sounded so young and vulnerable.

"I love you," he said softly. He was done with the cowardice of pretending otherwise. It had gotten him nothing and denial had punished Anakin more than anyone.

Anakin moved up his body, shoving him until there was enough space for him to lay down. Obi-Wan opened his eyes to see Anakin peering at him, a horrible mix of emotions on his face. Among other things. He licked his thumb to wipe some of his spunk off before conceding the point and using his sleeve.

"You look absurd," Obi-Wan advised him.

Anakin nodded his agreement.

"Say that again," he breathed. "Not the absurd thing. You know what I mean."

Obi-Wan pretended he did not. Instead he set to work on Anakin's belt, prying open the fastening with his thumb and running his hand down Anakin's length. Anakin shuddered under his touch and turned his face into the bed, eyes squeezed shut.

"You came for me," Anakin said. Obi-Wan held his tongue to avoid the obvious joke. "She said you would, eventually."

Obi-Wan slowed his hand, turning the strokes gentler. He kissed Anakin on the cheek and then his forehead. He didn't like where this was going.

"It was an easy prediction."

Anakin sighed.

"I'm glad she gave me to you. Things will be better now."

Obi-Wan knew he spoke of more than his time with Miraj; he was thinking of before that, of being a Jedi, of being with Obi-Wan and never having anything he could call him but 'Master.' That time, perhaps, had passed. He would not hear that word from Anakin again. He would not allow it.

There was a new word hanging between them, the one that Obi-Wan had spoken, and he was driven to make things better for _that_.

Not for anything Miraj had said. Not the look in her eyes when she died, when she asked Obi-Wan to promise he would not let go of Anakin.

"They will."

Obi-Wan pushed the thoughts to the side as he shouldered Anakin onto his back, letting him wriggle back toward center so he would not fall off.

"I love you," he said again, and then he slid down Anakin's body, happy to silence Anakin with his mouth.

* * *

 

Several Council members awaited them on the docks, joined by high ranking Senators and, Obi-Wan felt a rush of anger, the Chancellor himself. Obi-Wan glared at the man as he wound his arm around Anakin's waist. For all that he did not need any aid to walk, none of the people assembled knew that and Anakin was keen enough on touch to lean into it. Their Force bond was still tenuous. Anakin held himself too much apart within the Force, but he was aware of what Obi-Wan was angling for, and he took it upon himself to affect a limp.

It was Senator Amidala who stepped forward first, her dark eyes wide as she took the pair of them in. She covered her mouth with her hand before forcing it back to her side, jaw clenched and eyes bright with unshed tears.

"If there is any aid I can give to you," Amidala said. She looked between them. "You are dear, old friends and were the Heroes of Naboo well before the war. Anything you ask, we shall give to you."

Anakin looked to her and Obi-Wan felt once more that old flare of longing from him. He'd confessed just after the beginning of the war that he'd slept with her during his mission to protect her, considered throwing his life away to be with her. But she had not returned his feelings and so he remained a Jedi. While Obi-Wan did not believe Amidala was quite as immune to his former Padawan's charms as she often pretended, he had always been glad of her sensible choice. He'd even taken tea with her to thank her for the help in steering Anakin away from the more foolish, passionate mistakes he was apt to make.

Now, he felt disquiet instead. Who was he to praise Amidala for forgoing love? It was selfishness when he gladly took Anakin as his own now.

"Thank you, my lady," Anakin said softly.

Padme blushed only very faintly, nodding to him and then retreating back to the Senate delegation, though not so far as to be unable to follow the proceedings. The Chancellor came forward to heartily greet Anakin and, soon enough, was asking when he and Obi-Wan would be ready to fight on the front lines.

"… after you recover, of course," Palpatine finished cheerfully. "There is still a war to win."

"Theirs to win, it is not," Yoda said. He grunted as he pushed himself forward, gimer stick rapping loudly on the ferrocrete walkway. "Consequences, there much be. A grave breach of discipline has Master Kenobi committed. If, indeed, Master he still is."

Anakin straightened immediately, though he did not step out of Obi-Wan's grasp.

"For rescuing me?" he asked.

"For commandeering a fleet, Skywalker, don't play coy," Mace returned.

"For commandeering a fleet to rescue me," Anakin said. Resentment blazed in the Force. "Or didn't you want your Chosen One back?"

Mace met his eyes implacably, tucking his hands into his belt.

"We had hoped you would return under your own power, if indeed you are the Chosen One. Regardless, the war effort cannot be halted for a single Jedi, though I wish it were otherwise." He sighed. "It is good to have you back, Skywalker. We will discuss these matters later, at the Temple."

"Good, good! I think the public will be quite pleased to see that you have returned," Palpatine said.

He had maneuvered his way to Anakin's other side, fatherly hand on his shoulder as he tried to urge him forward. Anakin looked between him and Obi-Wan, uncertain of what to do.

Obi-Wan felt a chill go up his spine.

"The public?" he asked, tone clipped and precise.

Palpatine blinked.

"Of course. I shooed away the more inquisitive reporters as long as I could, and I daresay I have saved you from a full press conference, but there will be out in force at the Temple," He chuckled "if you excuse the pun. I think your faces will be on every broadcast from here to Sullust."

Mace and Yoda shared a look. The other Council members murmured behind them, apprehension bleeding from them in the Force. Obi-Wan was almost of a mind to tell them to compose themselves and act like Jedi, but had the good sense to refrain. He didn't need to dig himself deeper when it appeared that no one else had noticed.

"A good idea, that is not," Yoda said firmly.

"But, Master Yoda, think of the boon it will be to public morale!"

Obi-Wan almost felt grateful to the Chancellor, despite the innocent air he lent to his canny little trick. He didn't want Anakin, or Obi-Wan, to face consequences at all. And while Obi-Wan remained suspicious of his motives there, it was quite clever to leverage their status in the public eye to stall the Council's ability to expel Obi-Wan over this. It would certainly cost them when they got around to doing it.

But he remained the Chancellor and a politician, who by their very nature could not be trusted.

Obi-Wan waited quietly for Mace and Yoda to offer any kind of alternative. It was, however, Amidala who interceded.

"Forgive me, Masters, I could not help but overhear," she said. "Chancellor, I understand how deeply you care for the well-being of the Generals – nearly as much as you care for the Republic itself. But consider how General Skywalker fares. He needs medical attention. Is that really the image that the public should see, right now?"

Anakin frowned deeply, hackles rising. Obi-Wan sent him a calming wave to soothe his pride, though he knew it would do nothing, particularly given the source of the offence.

"Battle wounds, my dear, and hardly very deep ones. I think the public will find it quite inspiring that Anakin could spend so many long months in captivity, among the most vile criminals in the galaxy, and come back sporting mere bruises."

"And a broken arm," Amidala emphasized. "He'll hardly have any working limbs left at this rate."

"Hey!"

Palpatine eyed her curiously.

"What did you have in mind? You make the point that he does indeed need treatment, but the holonews reporters are waiting on the Temple's very doorstep."

"I have my own excellent medical droid," she said smoothly. "Naboo's medical services are the finest in the galaxy. They will return with me until all of this blows over. And until the Council has matters sorted."

Palpatine looked utterly enchanted by the idea, eyes gone far away as he considered the possibilities. Obi-Wan had always had the sneaking suspicion that he'd purposefully put Anakin and Padme together, hoping something would happen, and this all but confirmed that.

Tough luck, he thought suddenly, and tightened his arm around Anakin's waist.

"Oh, wonderful! Our hospitality extended to our homeworld's heroes. I shall have to write a speech on that, of course," he said. He nodded to himself and, without saying a farewell, mounted the ramp out of the docking bay. His coterie of advisors hurried to follow him away.

"Of course," Amidala said quietly as she watched him go. She had a small, pleased smile on her face.

Anakin looked at her, slightly stunned by her quick, silver tongued acquisition of him.

"I – thank you, Padme."

She dipped her head to him.

"It's the least I could do, Ani," she murmured.

Amidala gestured to one of the handmaidens who'd been lurking in the shadows and the woman scurried off to make arrangements.

"Delay matters, this does," Yoda said. "A temporary solution."

"I understand entirely, Master Yoda," Obi-Wan said.

To be honest, he wasn't sure that he had too much of a problem creating a media firestorm with his appearance. He didn't relish appearing before cameras or, Force forbid, giving a full interview to HNN, but he was quite aware that public sentiment would likely lean in his direction. He'd defied orders to rescue his partner from a woman of holodrama level evil, with no casualties during the course of the mission and great future potential for aiding the war effort.

But he was willing to concede the media narrative to the Jedi Council for the moment. Though Anakin didn't mention his position one way or another, Obi-Wan was loath to expose him to public scrutiny right now.

"I must extend my thanks to you as well," Obi-Wan said to Amidala as they walked the Jedi Masters walk away. "This is quite gracious of you."

She nodded briskly and gestured for him to follow him. She spoke softly as they walked to where her handmaiden was prepping the private shuttle she and the other Senators had arrived him, trailed by precisely those politicians who, as far as Obi-Wan could ascertain, were not invited on board. The snub made him feel remarkably warm inside. He honestly couldn't say why he didn't spend more time in Amidala's company.

He hoped he could make amends for that soon.

Amidala looked up at him with shrewd eyes as they walked, taking in his own appearance and Anakin's. Her eyes lingered on his arm around Anakin, though she seemed to take it in the same vein most took Jedi interaction – unknowable and strange and not worth trying to explain in their own context.

She did know more about Jedi culture than most, he reminded himself. He wondered if he would be able to take the care he should within her presence. Days previously, the answer would be entirely obvious, and yet now it was difficult to imagine caring so much.

"How are you really?" she asked. "The both of you."

"The brace is mostly for show, my lady," Anakin replied immediately. He tapped two of his metal fingers against it and then, going ashen at the sudden flood of pain, forced a wan smile to pretend he hadn't just done that.

"Recovering, Senator," Obi-Wan said as he eyed Anakin. "It will take time, I think. For the moment, I'd mostly prefer to rest. We can discuss matters later."

She nodded.

"I've heard rumors of the Queen of Zygerria," she said delicately. "Some of them are rather… nasty."

Obi-Wan grimaced. Miraj had more than rumors about her. There were holovids of Anakin at her side, eyes glassy with drugs and exhaustion, dressed in revealing clothes that were an offensive imitation of his Jedi garb – a thin, coarsely spun white tunic that hung half open, exposing the long cuts her nails left on him, and tight banthahide pants that he'd likely choose for himself, were he allowed to. It could have been worse, more humiliating, but the existence of Miraj's transmissions was certainly bad enough.

The military had intercepted them all, preventing rebroadcast to the public at large. But the Senate knew.

"Probably not nasty enough," Anakin grunted out.

Amidala's eyes filled with worry at that and Obi-Wan sighed. He, unfortunately, could not dispute the statement.

They boarded the shuttle in silence, Amidala stepping lightly with her skirts in her hands as she entered. Her security team followed and, upon assuring that Amidala was safely aboard, her handmaiden lifted off from the platform.

Amidala folded her hands in her lap as they flew toward 500 Republica, well on the other side of Coruscant where it was already twilight. Obi-Wan leaned back in his seat as he watched the Works pass beneath them, the old industrial district quite revitalized by the war effort and economic boom it produced. It was an ugly and unpleasant place, far from the reach of the Temple, and for that he almost enjoyed the sight of it.

It was an unutterable relief to be back on Coruscant, Anakin's bright presence at his side. Anakin slouched as they flew, stretching his legs out. It was no surprise when Obi-Wan felt the weight of Anakin's head on his shoulder. He looked down fondly to find Anakin fully asleep, stress gone from his face though he still had dark circles under his eyes and looked far too pale. Obi-Wan brushed Anakin's hair back from his face, provoking a sigh as Anakin snuggled into his shoulder.

When he looked up, Amidala was watching them with a soft expression.

"As long as you need," she said.

He'd prefer to return to the Temple and set right all that had gone awry. He wasn't suited to hermitage, he well knew, preferring to confront his problems rather than wait them out. But while he was entirely ready to fight the Council, he knew it was not yet the time. He was still too raw from all that had happened and he couldn't even speak for Anakin.

"Thank you, my lady." He nodded his gratitude to her. "You are indeed a great friend to the Jedi Order."

She shook her head.

"That is not at all my intention. I'm not concerned with 'the Order'."

Obi-Wan smiled wryly.

"I think there is much we agree on."


	3. Chapter 3

Padme raised her teacup to her lips, gaze set out the window. Weather Control had decided on a light fog with moderate drizzle. The Temple was distant, clouded by early morning Coruscanti traffic that would only worsen as the day progressed, yellow and red speeder lights burning furrows through the dim haze.

She wrapped her fingers around the fine Chandrilan bone porcelain, trying to absorb as much warmth as she could. Already she had set the apartment heat a notch higher, pretending it was in deference for the planned weather but aware it was for Anakin's sake.

"Exuberant crowds gathered outside the Jedi Temple late last evening, in-district time," snuffled the Drall newsreader. Padme did not turn to watch the holo. She imagined it panning over the steps of the Temple, packed with supporters and reporters both. "They were hoping to catch sight of the famed Hero With No Fear, welcoming him back to Republic territory, but they were met only with disappointment."

"Return today, Skywalker will not," Yoda said on the holo broadcast.

"I was not aware he had taken a new name. Master Disappointment has a ring to it," Obi-Wan put in behind her. He paused and then sighed. "That's ungenerous. Perhaps, I am more suited to the name, regardless."

Padme turned halfway, lifting her eyes to his. He looked very poorly rested and mildly overheated. He wore only his trousers and undermost tunic, feet unshod and his hair ruffled in a way that seemed quite unlike him. She'd peeked in on the guest room Teckla had settled them in the night before, after seeing the Emdee droid for an entirely redundant medical examination. Anakin's back had been turned to the door, exposing numerous faded scars, and it was unclear if he slept. Obi-Wan most certainly did not. He had met her eyes once before turning his attention back to Anakin

She took a step to her desk and muted the news report. Aurebesh subtitles sprang up in replacement for the sound.

"Is it that grave a situation?" Padme asked, sipping again at her tea.

Obi-Wan forced a wry smile.

"Quite a bit worse, I think. Commandeering a fleet engaged in an active campaign for a personal mission does constitute treason, from what I hear."

Padme set her cup down, fingers tracing the edge. Her eyes flicked to the holo, where a young human reporter was interviewing crushed fans. It was unsurprising that the news would take such a tack, focusing on Anakin's celebrity rather than his harrowing experiences, ignoring the consequences that Obi-Wan was likely to face. And, of course, with no mention at all of how dire the war had become.

Her desk was littered with datapads and flimisplasts, reports from the front regarding the war. Her insistence on the pursuit of peace, of attempting to open a dialogue whenever possible, meant that she kept herself abreast of troop movements as much as possible. In the past months, however, even she had to concede that diplomacy appeared to be of little use. She'd quieted many of her protests, watching as the Separatists launched ever more vicious invasions of unaligned planets and, often as not, took the fight to recently liberated planets, punishing them for defying the Separatists in the past.

It was hard to fathom. She'd known many of the leaders of Separatist worlds. There were members of the Congress Confederacy of Independent Systems that she counted as personal friends. It had always been difficult to understand quite how they came to ally themselves with Dooku and Grievous, but Padme had been able to rationalize it as a result of Dooku's own deceptions. She knew well that there were Senators of the Republic who she disagreed with and who pressed for tactics she despised.

And yet, seeing Rodia invaded, again, seeing Ryloth under Separatist dominion, seeing Grievous wield stolen blades as he cut down yet another Jedi – and then transmitted it to the galaxy – Padme simply could not see how anyone of decency could call themselves a Separatist.

It felt almost like giving up on herself, but she admitted she wanted to see the war won, not merely ended.

"You may not find help in the Senate," Padme said quietly. "Beyond myself and the Chancellor."

"To be quite honest, I never expected otherwise."

Padme nodded.

"What did you expect?"

Obi-Wan had always seemed rather circumspect in the past – certainly moreso than Anakin. It was difficult to imagine that he'd had no particular end in sight when he stole the Open Circle Fleet beyond rescuing Anakin.

He looked back at her for a long moment and Padme had the distinct feeling that she had overestimated him. He shook his head slowly, unable to answer.

Obi-Wan silent contemplation broke as Anakin appeared in the doorway behind him. He turned in place, surprise giving way to disapproval.

How odd, Padme thought.

"You were to rest," he informed Anakin.

Anakin looked only somewhat better than the day before, dressed similarly to Obi-Wan, but shirtless. Padme's eyes ran over him, taking in the numerous welts and injuries. The injuries that had been visible on his face were healed, the marks on his neck quickly fading, but more remained than Padme had even been aware of the day before. Sometime in the recent past he'd had a broken rib. The obvious mark of a lash curved over his shoulder and across his collarbone. Padme swallowed deeply, worried at the sight his back would present in the daylight.

"I did and now I'm awake," Anakin said. "You left."

Obi-Wan huffed in irritation, but when Anakin stepped closer, he quickly reached out to the younger man, one hand on his shoulder. He pushed Anakin's sweaty hair off his forehead, posture and expression lighter for the contact.

"You should go clean up."

Anakin nodded silently and did not move. He looked entirely content to stand there with Obi-Wan, under his concern and attention, close enough to touch. He turned to look at Padme.

"I don't suppose there's more of that?" he asked, gesturing to her tea.

Padme flushed. She'd been a terrible host.

"I'll ask Dorme to prepare a breakfast. I'm sorry, I don't know what I was thinking," she replied.

Quite aside from how she hadn't even thought of how to feed her guests, she'd retreated to her home office first thing in the morning, work foremost on her mind. Prying and hovering would do no good, she was well aware, but they did deserve a modicum more courtesy.

Anakin waited until she was finished comming her handmaiden. He gave her a broad, charming smile that made her heart thud loudly in her ears.

"Don't suppose you've got anything stronger than tea?"

Padme had quite a bit, actually. Primarily at her Senate office as it tended to come out during lengthy lunch meetings and, on rare occasions, actual celebrations of bills that had passed. Politicians typically did not have much cause to frown on drinking, unless it was the sort done by rivals across the aisle, who all obviously had problems and cast their votes drunk. And she could easily admit that she did not know Anakin very well, by her own choice.

It did not stop her from shooting a quick, worried look to Obi-Wan, who grimaced in response.

"Food first, I think," Obi-Wan said. He put his hands on Anakin, steering him back toward the door. "And in the meantime, a shower."

"Yes, Master," Anakin replied.

Obi-Wan pressed his lips together.

"Obi-Wan. From now on, it's Obi-Wan."

Anakin's eyes locked with his before turning to the floor, cheeks going red. He nodded obediently before turning and walking from the room. Padme could not help but stare.

* * *

The Chancellor turned from his contemplation of the dark, rippling clouds above the capital district as Padme entered his office. Lightning rent the sky and the rain was very swiftly turning into a deluge. Padme thought gratefully of her closed top speeder.

"Padme, my dear. I'm so pleased you could make it." He gestured out the window. "I fear Weather Control has quite lost sight of what 'drizzle' is, don't you?"

Padme nodded indulgently. He must have been frustrated indeed to attempt to talk about the weather; though he was skilled at dancing around exactly what he wanted to say, he usually reserved this kind of patter for people he'd otherwise not speak in front of at all. His current company certainly fit the bill: Masters Yoda, Windu, and Plo Koon, Senator Burtoni, as well as Orn Free Taa acting as Ryloth's Senator in exile, and the high military consul, Grand Admiral Tre'Nau. His personal affection for Anakin would certainly be tried by the political expectations of those around him.

"Senator Amidala," Master Windu said. He stepped forward to greet her, inclining his head respectfully despite his sour expression. "I commend your empathy for our Jedi Generals. What news do you have of them?"

Which was to say, did she have any excuse at all for protecting them from the Order's discipline?

"I suggest you consult with the medical droids on the Resolute, as they are under the scope of your authority," Padme replied. And, indeed, she was not.

He seemed to have expected no less from her. Master Yoda eyed her speculatively, but said nothing, while Plo Koon too seemed content to watch and wait until she made a mistake.

"I have yet to receive those reports," Tre'Nau put in. A Bith of relatively small stature, he drew himself up to glower with opaque black eyes at Master Windu. "It is a military matter, yet you continue to withhold vital information due the military courts."

"Determined, that has not been," Yoda said stiffly.

"Too true, I'm afraid, Admiral. If General Kenobi was indeed acting without any orders at all, I think it can reasonably say that he committed the crime within his 'civilian identity' – that is to say as a Jedi. From what I have heard, little in the way of military machinery was damaged and no casualties were incurred. Quite a remarkable mission, I daresay," Palpatine said.

"He is still a General of the Grand Army of the Republic," Tre'Nau said.

"By virtue of his rank as a Jedi," Master Windu emphasized.

Tre'Nau sniffed, cheek folds trembling. He knew as well as Padme did that rank would soon be in question.

"If you intend court martial," Padme said. She looked between the men and folded her hands in front of her, smile mild as she watched them go tense. "Then I should like to remind you of my rights and privileges under the Celestayan Reform Diplomatic Charter, of which not only is Naboo a signatory, but the Jedi Order itself."

"Oh, posh," Palpatine said. He spread his hands, a somewhat desperate expression on his face. "Surely it has not come to that, Senator. We hardly need use your diplomatic immunity in this circumstance, I think."

Padme made a considering sound. She was aware of the toll of the war, aware that if the Jedi looked half at wits end to her she could only imagine how they truly felt.

"You are correct, as always, Chancellor. It was an unfair thought. We all care for the wellbeing of the Republic and wish to see this war end."

"Here here!" Senator Orn Free Taa put in loudly. "This entire matter is absurd. We must drop it. A token punishment for Kenobi, I think, and then a return to action."

He did not need to say that he wanted Kenobi and Skywalker to liberate his world because he didn't need to. The Naboo had no Jedi – midichlorian testing was patchy at best and their isolationist bent had hardly improved since the Trade Federation blockade. But she was well aware that Jedi from a particular world were often treasured, idolized. Sometimes it took merely the species connection and nothing more.

"We do extend our condolences to you and Ryloth," Padme murmured, the regal diction creeping back in her voice unconsciously.

Dead at Grievous's hand, not even one month ago. Padme had almost grown accustomed to the toll the war took, even on the Jedi, but it was striking to see a woman like Aayla cut down by that monster.

"A fine Jedi, Aayla Secura was," Yoda said, shaking his head. "Too soon, her time came. Too soon, for so many."

"Because you cannot control your own forces," Senator Butoni said. Her voice was as creaky as ever, starlit eyes rheumy and judgmental. "If Skywalker still fought these past six months, do you think we'd have lost Ryloth? Hmm? Kamino is falling behind in production because of your poor leadership."

Padme glared at her.

"What are you suggesting that the Jedi do?"

"I thought that was obvious, my dear. Expel Kenobi as an example. Perhaps institute casualty maximums for their fellow Jedi and expel any others who do not meet expectations. That man Krell should have been found out months before all that nastiness." She waved her hand as if it were all so easy to solve. "Or else recuse themselves and let real commanders take over. It would certainly eliminate these conflicts of interest."

"There is no conflict of interest," Windu said with a deep scowl. "Kenobi acted rashly, but we have yet to determine that it was due to an inappropriate attachment. You yourself say Skywalker could have helped turn the tide in the war. Removing the Open Circle Fleet from an active engagement may have had long reaching negative consequences – we must wait to determine if moving Master Billaba to the Malastare conflict mitigated the damage – but it is entirely likely that Kenobi merely agreed with your estimation of Skywalker's impact on the war and acted to facilitate that, in his own way."

Tre'Nau's puckered mouth pulled in a sarcastic smile. He shook his head.

"No one cares about your Jedi rules regarding attachment except for your own deluded little cult, Master Windu. The conflict of interest is between your supposed duty to justice and to the war effort." He made a long hissing sound and crossed his arms. "One can easily see the 'injustice' of leaving Skywalker in bondage, regardless of personal feelings. But he disobeyed orders and abused military resources."

"That is still a matter for discussion. Would Skywalker not be considered a military resource himself?" Palpatine asked.

Padme shivered to hear him referred to that way. Scintel had said something similar in one of her holotransmissions, asking the Republic of his value to them, if it could possibly match what she believed him to be worth.

"A false imposition," Tre'Nau said brusquely.

Padme held up a hand and looked among the men before her.

"It is clear enough that one meeting will not resolve matters." She nodded to the Jedi. "First the Order must decide what kind of treatment they will extend to their members. I do understand that you have internal discipline to see to, but consider that this is a discussion about the welfare of one of your own at the same time. If you choose not to see to him, I intend to.

"And with regards to the military matters, we are all aware of the state of the Republic – fractured and wounded by this conflict. Before we can even think to win the war, however, shouldn't we ensure that our warriors themselves have an opportunity to heal from their wounds?"

"Thank you, Senator, I could not have put it better myself," Palpatine said. He reached out to lay a fond hand on her shoulder. And then, entirely contrary to the spirit of her words, said to Senator Taa, "Redeployment is certainly on the table. Perhaps after the medical reports and mission files become available, we will be able to choose the champions who will free Ryloth."

Senator Taa nodded back to the Chancellor, mollified for the moment.

"Take your point, I do, Senator Amidala," Yoda said. "But of concern it is, cloistering Skywalker away from Jedi Healers. Offer him help to heal, you would, but pretend only the wounds are physical, do you?"

"Of course not, Master Yoda," Padme said softly.

Her droid had been able to report no more than what Obi-Wan could have told her himself. Anakin had suffered multiple lacerations over the past six months, no small number of broken bones, and currently sported a broken arm and a few mild nutritional deficiencies. The Emdee was programmed for psychological diagnostics, but Anakin had given answers he knew full well would produce ideal results, blithely lying as Padme and Obi-Wan watched. Droids were hardly substitutes for true healers.

If Padme thought Obi-Wan had hardly slept, she knew she herself had done no better. Lingering downstairs, she'd read and reread files until her vision blurred, breath shortened as she waited for the nightmares to begin.

She recalled Tatooine, his childhood there and the death of his mother.

But she'd heard nothing. Perhaps he did not dream because it had already occurred, perhaps his nightmares were reserved for the future when he could not stop it and not for the past at all.

Or perhaps he had not slept and the three of them spent the night in her apartment, thinking of each other, turning restlessly in bed and pretending they found sleep.

"Return to the Temple, he should," Yoda said. "A Jedi, he is."

Padme raised her eyebrows at that. It was possible that in the years since Shmi's death, the Jedi had truly been there for Anakin. She knew of his bond with his Padawan, had interacted with the two of them enough to know the strength they drew from each other. But she also knew that Anakin had gone ten years without seeing his mother, his fears hardly addressed because he simply wasn't supposed to worry at all.

"I'm sure he agrees. And he will return, when he wishes to."

"If I may," Plo Koon said, speaking for the first time, "I should like to meet with them both. Perhaps some of these questions can be laid to rest with a simple discussion among us Jedi. Hosted, if you will indulge us, by Senator Amidala."

Padme nodded slowly.

"That does sound like an appropriate compromise."

His rough voice took on a warmer tone.

"Then I shall inform my Padawan."

* * *

The warm, arid air of her apartment was a welcome relief. Padme unclasped her cloak and allowed Teckla to take it from her, brushing droplets of water off the vinesilk brocade as she folded it over her arm. The transparisteel door to the landing pad slid shut, closing off the slight breeze that even the atmospheric dampening force fields could not quite eliminate at this height.

The illumination was on the highest setting in the sitting room, almost enough to dispel the darkness of the looming, turbulent clouds outside. Someone, Padme suspected Anakin, had turned off the decorative fountain in the center of the room. Obi-Wan looked up as she entered, though Anakin did not move. He sat on the floor, legs stretched out before him, while Obi-Wan was seated on the long, curved sofa. Anakin's cheek rested on Obi-Wan's knee, eyes focused on the small field holoprojector they had set just in front of the fountain.

His eyes scanned over the star maps of the war's ever shifting frontlines, expression displeased and jaw tense.

Obi-Wan touched his hair lightly and, with a deep frown, Anakin tore his attention away to look up at Padme. Her lips parted as she met his gaze, unsure of her question and yet stirred by the impulse to ask.

You don't know them, she reminded herself. You chose not to.

"My lady?" Teckla asked.

Padme put aside her sense of disquiet to look to her handmaiden. She would need, of course, to change into something more suitable for hosting Master Plo.

"Just one moment," Padme said. She gave Teckla a brief smile. "Pick something out for me."

Teckla bowed, skirting the edge of the room so as not to disrupt the holo as she headed toward Padme's bedroom.

"I was just updating Anakin on the course the war has taken," Obi-Wan said. He gestured to the holomap and then settled his hand on the cushion just behind Anakin. "I take it I am not yet to be strung up for my crimes. I'd imagine your entrance would have been somewhat more urgent if I were. You'd be dressing for my arrest right now."

Padme crossed her arms in front of herself, tilting her head to the side coolly.

"I have no such plans for that event. But perhaps your impeccable fashion advice will prove valuable." She widened her eyes comically at him. "Would you like to select something for me? I'm sure we have nothing better to discuss."

Obi-Wan sighed and passed his hand over his face, pulling at his beard.

"You are correct, of course. I apologize."

"It's nothing so dire," she said encouragingly. "You have more advocates than you'd originally supposed. I don't think even the Jedi Council truly wants to bring charges against you."

"It's not inevitable. Maybe they'll drop it," Anakin said.

"You are charmingly optimistic, as always," Obi-Wan said, apparently with no trace of irony. Anakin pulled a face and looked at Padme, asking for confirmation that she'd heard the same thing. "It is entirely inevitable. The question is merely how long it will take them and how messy the politics surrounding it be."

"As messy as I can make them," Padme replied.

Anakin glared at the starmap, blue glow casting his face in shadows as he clenched his hand on his leg. He hadn't bothered to dress fully – nor had Obi-Wan – but he had found his belt and lightsaber and it caught Padme's eye now. She did know that blade, wielded in her defense and on Geonosis. She remembered it in his hand when their paths crossed on the ship Malevolence and all the dozen holovid propaganda reels that had been put out in the past two years. It was his own lightsaber and no one else's.

She would have assumed it lost on Zygerria. Scintel had not destroyed it when she took it from Anakin. Her stomach dropped as she thought of it, the months Anakin had spent as her captive, his weapon held in the hands of another.

"Good," he said fiercely. "They won't have you without a fight, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan smiled down at him. The resignation and bitterness had left his eyes. He did indeed look charmed by Anakin, unsettling though the situation should have been. Padme had never intended to fight Jedi, never thought it would be necessary.

She would see to it that it did not come to be, she decided firmly.

"You will have the opportunity to make your own case," Padme said. Both men lifted their eyes to her, curiosity on Obi-Wan's face; tension on Anakin's. "Master Plo Koon reached out to me. He'd like to hear a personal account from each of you. He'll arrive here with his Padawan soon."

Anakin swallowed.

"His Padawan?" he asked hoarsely.

Padme softened her tone.

"Yes – I'm sorry. But it will be an opportunity for you to see her again, without worrying about going to the Temple."

He nodded jerkily while Obi-Wan eyed her with a frightening amount of anger. She refrained from taking a step backwards.

"I –" Anakin's voice gave out and he shook his head. He looked down at his thin undershirt and then jumped to his feet. "I should get dressed."

Padme smiled and raised her eyebrows at Obi-Wan. It sounded like a reasonable course of action for all three of them. His expression did not lighten. Padme felt the hair on her arms stand up, as surely as if she were on the balcony, violent electricity crackling overheard, barely leashed by Weather Control satellites. Anakin was either oblivious or uninterested in the interplay, jumping to his feet and running a nervous hand through his hair.

"I will as well," Padme told him.

Padme stepped to his side, one hand gentle on his arm. He calmed and flashed her a quick, self-deprecating grin, like he hadn't known what had come over him. She gave him a half shrug and together they walked from the room, parting at the stairs that led to her room. She looked once over her shoulder. Obi-Wan had risen to join Anakin, his expression absolutely thunderous when she caught his eye.

* * *

Anakin fidgeted with his tabard, pulling it straight and then, tugging again, askew.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan chided with a sigh. He reached out to straighten it once more, hands lingering on Anakin.

At the moment, Anakin did not actually look appreciative of the gesture. He fussed with his clothes, ignoring Obi-Wan though he did nothing to make the older man back away. Padme raised her eyebrows as she watched them, certain that a slap fight was about to ensue.

"You look fine," Padme put in.

Anakin's head snapped up, eyes locked on hers. He frowned immediately and looked back down at his clothes.

"I don't …" he trailed off, shaking his head. More assertively, frustration lining his features, he repeated the half formed thought, "I don't."

He still looked slightly battered. His left arm remained in a bacta brace, though it barely peeked out from under his cloak, and his complexion was unhealthily wan. The worst of the damage was hidden by his Jedi tunics, but for the shadows underneath his eyes.

She'd seen that terrible, exhausted look on his face before, after his mother's death. He looked startled and on edge, as frightened of himself as anything that had happened to him.

"I'm not the Jedi I should be," he'd said.

Padme clenched her jaw against the visceral jolt of the memory. It was the last time she'd touched him, her hand on his neck, fingers trying to draw out the pain as he cried in her arms.

"You are a Jedi," Padme said quietly. She folded her hands in front of her skirt, thumb worrying across the back of her hand. That she wished to step nearer was unquestioned; that she would not, equally clear to her. "Your clothes reflect that, Anakin."

"It is not something Miraj can take from you," Obi-Wan added.

Anakin rolled his eyes at the both of them, but he finally stopped attempting to fix his tunics. One end of his tabard had been pulled significantly further through his belt than the other. Padme pressed her lips into a line as she watched Obi-Wan carefully correct it, hand resting on Anakin's waist when he finished.

They were – she cut off the thought, refusing to allow it to form. She was not of the Jedi. She didn't know them and she could not judge.

"You know you don't have to use the present tense, anymore," Anakin said. "Thank you for that."

"I think Captain Cody may have a recording. If you are interested."

Anakin cocked his head to the side as he looked past Obi-Wan, eyes fixed on the imagined sight. He swallowed and nodded, gaze snapping back to Obi-Wan who smiled grimly.

"I thought so."

Padme thought she might enjoy that also, horrible as it sounded.

"My lady," Teckla said. "Master Plo Koon and Padawan Ahsoka Tano."

Padme turned to see Teckla bow deeply. Master Plo stood behind her, draped in his cloak, exuding perfect Jedi calm. Ahsoka was a different story entirely and Padme's mouth curved in a full smile to see the excitement and joy on her face. She looked like she was barely holding herself back from flinging herself at Anakin. In fact, Master Plo held out an arm, checking whatever impulse seemed to seize her until she was once more calm, though she all but vibrated next to him.

Teckla stepped to the side, standing near the door frame but not retreating entirely, as the Jedi entered the sitting room.

"It is a great pleasure, Senator Amidala," Plo rumbled. He directed his look to Obi-Wan and then to Anakin, inclining his head respectfully. "I am very pleased to see you back among us, Skywalker. And grateful to you, Obi-Wan, for showing the courage you have."

"Grateful?" Obi-Wan asked. He crossed his arms, skepticism on his face. "I appreciate the sentiment, Master Plo, but have yet to see evidence of it. I stand here in exile from my home – as does Anakin – because I showed such 'courage.'"

"You are a credit to the Order."

"Oh, indeed. Of that I am quite sure, if I remain in the Order at all."

"Master Obi-Wan," Ahsoka said. Her eyes were wide with shock. "Don't say that! You're a Jedi – one of the best!"

Obi-Wan softened slightly.

"It is kind of you to say so, young one. But I am aware of the consequences the Council will seek against me."

"But that's why we're here! Master Plo is on the Council. We're going to make sure that doesn't happen."

Obi-Wan's demeanor turned wry as he looked to Plo Koon.

"The Council encompasses myriad opinions, as does the Order and, indeed, each Jedi. I have my differences with them, as well you know," Plo said.

Padme did not find that equivocation the slightest bit heartening. Next to him, even Ahsoka looked disappointed. She'd clearly hoped for more definitive support from her Master.

"I do. And I know how unimportant those differences truly are."

Padme looked to Anakin, wondering if the exchange was as cold as she thought it to be. He wasn't even paying attention, eyes locked on Ahsoka.

"I – how are you?" Anakin asked, fumbling for words.

"Master…" Ahsoka started. She shook off the rest of her words as she stared back at him.

This time she didn't restrain herself. She walked and then ran the few steps across the room, colliding with Anakin to hug him hard. Anakin shut his eyes, chin perched on the dip between her montrals as he wound his arms around her, heedless of any pain in his broken left arm.

"That's a stupid question, Master," Ahsoka said, voice muffled by Anakin's chest. "I didn't go anywhere."

"Neither did I. Technically."

Ahsoka pulled away from him long enough to hit him, high on the arm where he was uninjured, and then she was hugging him again.

"You ever do that to me again and I'll kill you myself," Ahsoka said.

"Thanks, Snips. I knew I could come to you for death threats. It's exactly what I need right now." Anakin held her with one hand light on her back, the other on her shoulder as he grinned down at her. He twitched his head toward the couch and drew her to sit next him. She curled one of her legs underneath her, arm stretched out on the back of the cushion while Anakin sat up straight, stiff but not distant. "I mean, I certainly didn't get enough of them from Miraj Scintel. Every day. I missed them."

"Oh, so, you're just going to milk this forever, aren't you?" Ahsoka complained.

Anakin flicked his finger lightly against the tip of her montral and loomed in over her, eyes narrowed.

"That," he pronounced smugly, "is the plan."

"I think we shall allow you to catch up," Plo Koon said. The affection was apparent in his voice, startling Padme. Uncharitably, perhaps, she had expected more in the way of disapproval from him – even jealousy. He looked to Obi-Wan. "And we shall discuss other matters."

Padme spared a look back at Anakin and Ahsoka, already deeply involved in a spirited conversation, familiarity and ease with each other returning as if it had never left. Anakin's posture had relaxed and he now sat with his cheek propped on his hand, knee nudging against Ahsoka's while they talked.

They were closer than a typical Master and Padawan pair, more familial. Padme had swiftly become aware of that when she first spent time alone with Ahsoka, during the blue shadow virus crisis on Naboo. Ahsoka not only knew who Padme was to Anakin, but precisely how much she had hurt him. Despite Jedi doctrine on the topic, Ahsoka had given her one of the chilliest and most jaundiced receptions she'd even received from a Jedi, thawing only when it seemed they would die together to safeguard Naboo from that plague.

Padme looked back at Obi-Wan, catching him watching them as well, a slightly wistful smile on his face.

"Perhaps we should speak in my office," Padme said, eye catching Teckla's.

The handmaiden nodded and disappeared through the door to, first of all, do a quick security check of the office and ensure only Padme's only recording devices were functioning, and secondly, to prepare refreshments for what would undoubtedly be a long and unpleasant conversation. Padme had yet to hear the full story of Obi-Wan's rescue mission and she had no doubt that, pleasing as the ending was, it would not be enjoyable.

Padme led the way to her office, entering just as Teckla left, the other woman giving her a brisk nod as she exited. Padme was not typically the paranoid sort, despite the many assassination attempts she had endured, but she was well aware of how quickly a deal could be rescinded. In this instance, she also felt it important to have the first account of Obi-Wan's mission on record. She was sure that Plo would relay the information, surer still that Cody had completed his own mission report and debriefing.

But there was something to having Obi-Wan's spoken words recorded. Jedi or no, his voice and emotion had a power that the mere written word did not and Padme intended to use everything she had to protect him, protect Anakin.

Teckla reappeared quickly, bearing a tray of fruit, small pastries, and various small creatures whose meat was quite delightful when dried. She left a steaming carafe of caf on Padme's desk, timer still counting down before it would be ready to drink.

Padme gestured to the chairs before settling herself behind the desk.

"How goes the defense of Malastare?" Obi-Wan asked once they were all seated.

"Poorly," Plo Koon replied. "I expect that redeploying the Open Circle Fleet to their original position will be of great aid."

Obi-Wan nodded.

"What are the casualties?"

"You will not be charged in the deaths."

Obi-Wan laughed and sat back in his chair, on hand on his knee.

"Oh, I expect not. That would be quite something, even for Tre'Nau. But it is evidence of my dereliction of duty, is it not? My treason?"

Plo made a long sound, a rough and displeased.

"Master Kenobi, I am on your side. I fully believe that we were remiss in leaving Skywalker a captive, but if you would like my help in proving that, I will need you to do your own part. Tell me of what you found on Zygerria. Tell me everything and I may just be able to save your career and your life."


	4. Chapter 4

"Master," Ahsoka started. She plucked at the upholstery on Padme's furniture and recoiled as she found a hair. She brushed it hurriedly from her hand, disgust visible on her face. Anakin laughed at her expression and she kicked him poutily. "Master, it's not funny!"

"It is! You've lived around humans all your life and you still can't handle hair."

He was tempted to rub his head against her, just to make her squirm.

"It's gross," she said with a sniff.

"And montral moltings aren't?"

"You would have a better argument if you didn't keep bits of my montrals in a braid box under your pillow."

Anakin couldn't even feign offense at that. He hadn't raised her so he didn't have any of her baby teeth and while he would be deeply honored to have her Padawan beads after she was knighted, it really just wouldn't be the same as the braid he had given to Obi-Wan upon his own knighthood. He had no more intention of completely parting ways with his Padawan than he had with his former Master, no matter what the Order taught. The pieces striped horn shed from her montrals as she grew were a better reminder of her than any holo, more unique and personal.

He felt Ahsoka prod at him in the Force and hesitated for a moment before winding it more tightly around himself, deflecting her attempt to rekindle their training bond. It had not been cut – it was hardly possible to sever a bond, except with the power of the full Council bent toward that aim – but it lay quiescent, no longer an active and mutual channel between them.

He hadn't been willing to subject her to his experiences.

"Master, what happened? Really?" she asked. She sat forward, hands on her knees. "I mean, I get it if it's too soon and I don't want to push you, but …"

"We talk about everything and that's not going to change, Snips," Anakin said firmly. He shrugged and sat back, looking at her sidelong. "There's not much to it, though. Miraj offered your freedom in exchange for mine. It was an easy choice."

"Yeah, but that was six months ago and you grew up as a slave. I know it couldn't have been easy for you. I saw the holos, Master. I just – I want you to know I'll always be here for you. No matter what."

Anakin felt a thread of meaning wind through her words. He stopped breathing, staring back at her as he searched in the Force, stumbling on the fully formed truth with clarity that shook him.

"You're not coming back."

Tears filled Ahsoka eyes and she bit her lip. Slowly, she nodded.

"I – they took you from me. You’re his Padawan now."

It shouldn't have been a surprise; Obi-Wan had said she was reassigned. Anakin knew what that could mean. He felt a sudden and blistering fury at himself for thinking anything else would happen.

"We didn't know," Ahsoka said miserably. "I'm sorry, Master."

Anakin stood, hand shaking as he carded it through his hair. Even with his shields, he knew she felt the searing heat of his anger, the bright and invisible edge just beyond the flame. He almost didn't want to control it.

He looked away from her, hunched and tiny on Padme's curved sofa, to the mist dimmed city outside. Beyond the lash of rain, he could make out the Temple. He felt a rush of hatred at the sight.

"They can't do this," he snapped.

It wasn't them.

"Master, you know how this works. It wasn't them. It was us."

That was how Force bonds formed. They couldn't be imposed from the outside. Often as not, they grew up naturally between agemates in the creche, though they typically withered well before younglings were taken on by their Masters and faded in contrast to their training bond.

"Master... what do you want me to do? I can't even feel you."

His fury was fixed on the absent Council, the Jedi who left him in bondage and stole his Padawan from him. She couldn't feel it. That was good.

"You can keep saying that word," he said, eyes on the Temple. His felt his mouth move and heard the words. "It doesn't make me your Master."

"Fine, Anakin," she snapped.

She almost never called him by name – it was enough to drag his attention back to her. He exhaled harshly, holding back the terror that twisted inside him. She reached for him tentatively in the Force and he instinctively retreated.

He was fucking this up. He knew all he needed to do was meet her half way. They were reunited, finally, and he would have her back if he just rekindled the bond that still lay between them. That was all he had to do.

And he knew equally that he couldn't do it. He couldn't expose her to what he was.

Ahsoka felt some of that, despite his best efforts. Her tone turned cautious, gentle.

"Do you really think you're ready to teach me again?"

She wanted it. He could hear the hope in her voice.

Anakin clenched his left hand, sparks of pain lighting behind his eyes.

"I did it for you," he said. "I stayed with her to save you."

He felt her flinch.

"That's not fair, Master! I was ready to fight – I still will fight with you and for you – but not if you're going to blame me."

Anakin felt his anger extinguish. He stared down at his hand, flexing it painfully to give himself something to focus on. A cold sweat stuck his undertunic to his skin and he recalled the haze of Miraj's drugs, fevered and blissful despite the chill he could never shake when she touched him.

"I don't blame you," he said through numb lips.

"That's not what it sounds like!" Ahsoka huffed and then put her feelings to the side. Anakin felt her calming empathy reach out to him even before she stood, hand on his arm. He moved his head slowly to meet her eyes. "Master?"

He remembered the little slave costume he'd found for her, the collar around her neck. At least when Miraj punished him, it was the right person being hurt.

"I'm sorry," he told her sincerely. He placed his hand on her shoulder. "He is a wise teacher. You made the right choice, Padawan Ahsoka."

Her expression faltered and then, very quickly, her presence quieted in the Force. Their bond stretched thin. She stepped away from him, both hand clenched into fists are her side. The line of her back was taut with anger as she worked her jaw. For a long moment she merely looked at him before she bowed to him, glare directed toward the floor.

"Thank you, Master Skywalker. But I think I've taken up too much of your time already."

Anakin watched as she walked toward Padme's office, as furious and aching as he was. And then he sealed himself away from the Force as well as he could. She didn't need intrusions from him now any more than she had when he was with Miraj. He took a deep breath, calming himself. He'd done this before and come out a better Jedi for it.

He could feel the bright spark of her presence and concentrated on the physical distance between them, consciously translating it to spiritual distance. She was returning to her Master, to where she belong.  
The three of them were distant points in the Force. There are no paths to them, Anakin told himself. They are disconnected, equidistant. Ahsoka, Plo, and Obi-Wan. As far from him as any Jedi should be from another.

The Force tingled along his nerves, alerting him to the lie. He brushed it aside.

When the moment had passed, he dropping down onto the floor, folding his legs under him. He waved a hand at the holoprojector Obi-Wan had set up earlier. The starmap was bright blue, light shining on his face and illuminating the wall behind it. Anakin pressed the knuckles of his gloved hand to the floor, expression tense and grim as he turned his attention to the changes wrought in the Republic since his captivity.

He did have a war to win, after all. His feelings were immaterial.

* * *

Padme was ashen when she emerged from her office, Obi-Wan trailing her with a disgruntled expression. Anakin watched silently from his position in the sitting room, flimsiplasts with a list of angry questions and notes on the direction of the war scattered around him. Plo bowed to her and Obi-Wan in turn and placed a hand on Ahsoka's shoulder as he guided her out. Anakin grimaced when she turned, briefly, to wave to him.

"How bad?" he asked Obi-Wan as the other man collapsed onto the couch behind him. He tilted his head back to look at Obi-Wan, who had covered his face with both hands.

"We have a case," Padme said delicately. She joined Obi-Wan, sitting a respectable distance from him, though her posture went boneless with exhaustion. She pressed to fingers to her temple as she looked to him. "I think it will be enough to forestall Tre'Nau bringing charges in the Senate, but I don't know about the Council."

Neither spoke as to what Plo's opinion was about Obi-Wan's prospects were with the Council. Anakin looked between them warily. That was a bad sign.

"Which is to say I may not be going to jail, but hardly have any hope of remaining a Jedi."

"I don't know about that." Anakin picked up one of the flimsiplasts. He'd transcribed the progress of the last three months, the sudden and horrible shift toward utter despair that the GAR seemed to have embraced summarized in one slice of the Hydian Way's battle lines. He smacked it against Obi-Wan's knee until the man opened his eyes and took the drawing from him. "They can't afford to lose us, Master. Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan smiled at the correction and Anakin felt a thrill of pleasure at his approval. It was hard to remember that he wasn't allowed to call Obi-Wan Master anymore, but obedience was clearly worth it.

"It isn't merely the troop situation, Anakin. It is the politics as well. Tre'Nau has been pushing more and more for Judicial control of the military and he has support, even among the seemingly loyal military officers. Captain Tarkin, notably."

Anakin nodded. That wasn't much of a surprise.

"He has a point, you know."

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes.

"He does not and we shall not go over this again."

"The Senate is beginning to see his point of view as well," Padme said. Obi-Wan passed her the flimsiplast and she looked over it briefly, settling it on her lap as she shook her head slowly. "They dislike the amount of autonomy the Jedi Order has within the war."

"And in general," Obi-Wan murmured.

It was a long running argument. The Senate complained about the lack of transparency within the Jedi Order and the Jedi complained about the Senate attempting to meddle in their internal affairs. They were, after all, a religious order and hardly wanted the winds of secular politics to determine who stood the Trials and when, let alone who was placed on the Jedi Council.

"Always," Padme said lightly. "But the Chancellor cannot subdue Tre'Nau or even Senator Burtoni any longer. They want the Order to be stripped of command entirely."

"A fine reward for the sacrifices the Order has endured."

Anakin looked back at the star map, jaw working in silent anger. He'd questioned the role of the Jedi in the GAR before, even going as far as to agree with Tarkin that the Jedi were simply limited by the Code to win. But the point to him wasn't that the Jedi should be cut out – he couldn't imagine any Judicial commander would be half as effective in the field as a Jedi – but that they should adopt a Code more suited to the demands of wartime. Obi-Wan, of course, thought they could straddle that line and still achieve victory.

Or else, he had.

He lifted his eyes back up, watching Obi-Wan speculatively. He didn't know what the other man thought anymore. He knew what Obi-Wan felt and he couldn't deny the way his pulse raced at the thought. Obi-Wan _loved_ him. But that word he never thought he'd hear had upturned everything he'd thought he knew about Obi-Wan.

"It is a point I will make, Master Jedi," Padme was telling Obi-Wan. "What the Jedi, and Anakin in particular, have been through deserves to be lauded, not sneered at. We need Jedi like you to end this terrible war. Changing leadership now…" She grimaced, "it would be a disaster."

"Indeed, and isn't that the argument that has kept Chancellor Palpatine in office? What value is his supermajority if they can't even be bent toward the aiming of avoiding the most blatant of hypocrisies?"

"I think you are overestimating how much politicians care," Anakin said.

Padme kicked out, nudging Anakin's shoulder with the pointed toe of her shoe. He looked at her in surprise and found her smiling, brown eyes lit with amusement.

"Not all politicians."

Anakin nodded wordlessly, caught up in her. He'd worked very hard to forget how the Force felt when she laughed and he couldn't for the life of him remember why.

Obi-Wan cleared his throat loudly to break the moment.

Anakin fumbled for his flimsiplasts, gathering them up as a distraction.

"So," Padme said weakly. She tried again, finding the impartial calm of her Senatorial voice, "I think we do not stand on as shaky ground as you think, Master Kenobi."

"Presuming that the Council does not expel me, Tre'Nau does not courtmartial me, and the Senate continues to support the Jedi as the generals of the Grand Army, that is quite true," Obi-Wan agreed.

"Then we take away the choice," Anakin said.

"Oh?"

"No, listen to me," Anakin said impatiently. He waved his sheaf of flimsiplasts at the star map. "We win the war. Hell of a shot they have convicting you of anything when Grievous is dead and the war is over."

"Anakin…"

He ignored the protest. If Obi-Wan could steal a fleet once, he was pretty sure Obi-Wan could do it again. Easier this time around with Anakin to help.

"What I don't understand is how things got so bad to begin with. What the hell were you doing? I leave the fleet for a couple of months and the entire front collapses!"

"Anakin, you have looked over many of the mission reports yourself," Obi-Wan said. He had a furrow of concern between his brows and he spoke in the soft, yet firm voice Anakin recalled from his apprenticeship, when Obi-Wan was sure Anakin was overreacting but knew saying as much would only exacerbate the situation. "Dooku took advantage of your absence and the blow to morale. The Separatists funneled even more money into the droid foundries and pursued active onslaughts against previously free territory. We were spread too thin to counter so many attacks at once."

Anakin stared at him, sure that he'd heard Obi-Wan wrong.

"Dooku?"

"They were replaying his speeches for weeks. I can't believe he was _ever_ a Jedi," Padme said. Her cheeks were pink with remembered anger, hand curled into a fist in her lap. "He's nothing like you."

Anakin felt dizzy as he listened to them.

"But I killed him." He pushed himself to his feet, looking wildly between Padme and Obi-Wan. Miraj's drugs, he thought suddenly – but it was before that, before she'd truly done anything to him at all. "I killed him on Zygerria, months ago!"

They both looked unsettled and Anakin fought for calm. Obi-Wan extended himself in the Force, curious but not doubtful, concerned without pity, and Anakin almost broke. Almost reached back to him.

He battened down his shields, lifting his chin haughtily, his glare fierce.

"You said you had a recording of Miraj's death," he said. He hated the way her name sounded, the way he could never capture everything he remembered of her in it. He felt like it should be longer, harsher, angrier, but it always caught in the back of his throat instead.

"From Cody's helmet holocam," Obi-Wan said slowly.

Anakin pulled his lips back from his teeth, hand raised to his head in frustration. He restrained the urge to hit something, coiling the feeling around himself in the Force. He didn't do well with letting go, but he could staunch those emotions, rein them in and stop them from infecting those around him. For a time.

"No one sliced the palace security? You have nothing? I don't believe that for one second."

"You may be correct," Obi-Wan said. "We did a full reconnaissance before the mission and I do trust that Cody secured the databases afterward. I shall ask him if that included any holo recordings inside the palace. Where, precisely, did this fight occur?"

Anakin shot him a sarcastic smile.

"I was actually conscious when you rescued me, you know. Nearly the whole time. But if you need details, fine. It was in her throne room. Couldn't have been more than a day after she let you go. Dooku caught wind that she'd captured Jedi and she could only put off seeing him so long – we chatted, had tea, he tried to murder her and I throttled him with a laserwhip." He brushed his palms together as if dusting them off. "That simple."

Silence hung over Padme and Obi-Wan. Anakin could feel the crackle of energy outside. The clouds had not broken once since the day begun and the only illumination breaking over the Coruscanti skyline was in fractured streaks of lightning. It suited his mood, at least.

The Force had turned careful around Obi-Wan and the man pursed his lips, quite clearly unsure of what to say.

Padme forced a diplomatic smile and stood, smoothing her skirts.

"That is an excellent lead, Anakin. I'm sure Cody will be able to narrow down the recordings with that information. In the meantime, I think I will do my own research on Dooku's supposed speeches. There must be some reason for the broadcasts and the ruse."

Anakin watched her go, knot of feelings in his stomach giving lie to any pretense that he'd be acting like a proper Jedi any time soon. He sat down uncertainly on the couch next to Obi-Wan, turning his body into Obi-Wan's.

"You believe me, right?"

Obi-Wan studied him seriously and then brushed Anakin's hair off his forehead, fingertips brushing down Anakin's cheek as he dropped his hand back to his side.

"I believe you," Obi-Wan said.

Anakin could feel his doubt in the Force, but it didn't matter. His heart beat loudly in his ears as he looked back at Obi-Wan. He'd never been willing to lie for him before.

* * *

 

"They aren't going to arrest you the moment you walk in the door," Anakin said.

The clatter and din of Dex's dinner crowd was more than enough to cover his words, yet he found himself speaking in an undertone nonetheless. Obi-Wan sat opposite him, splayed out casually on the red bench seat of the diner. Anakin emulated him as best as he could, feeling exposed without his cloak, though he knew it would call more attention to him than even sitting next to the broad, street level window did.

Obi-Wan scoffed. His plate was bare, sauce entirely mopped up, and his fingers tapped its edge. He didn't feel hungry to Anakin, but he shifted his plate forward anyway. Obi-Wan was unappreciative of the gesture, immediately pushing it back and gesturing for Anakin to finish like he was a recalcitrant child again.

"You cannot say that with any surety."

Anakin took a bite – now cold – and resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"I don't see why you are so eager to return to the Temple," Obi-Wan said. His tone was careful, sense in the Force probing. Anakin deflected it with near unconscious ease. "I thought that Padme's Emdee had been entirely adequate thus far. Unless it is not physical healing you wish to seek."

Anakin ignored that line of thought with a scowl. He didn't need or want a mind healer.

"Emdee is perfectly fine. But I was hoping to retrieve something from the Temple. That's all."

"Something – Anakin! You are not risking my freedom for a mere droid!"

"Exactly!" Anakin pushed a finger down against the table top as he leaned forward, eager to press his point. "I wouldn't. And we're not, because the Council has already granted Padme's invocation of our status as Heroes of Naboo – which confers diplomatic rights, you know. It's part of the Charter of Sovereign Systems, in this lower Thesh addendums. So, it's no big deal if we walk in there to get Threepio."

The corner of Obi-Wan's mouth quirked up.

"I am impressed, Anakin. I didn't know you were up on intergalactic law."

Anakin brightened at the praise. He wasn't, of course. The extent of Republic law he knew that went beyond what had been contained within mission briefings followed two very narrowly delineated paths – that which applied specifically to Naboo, and that which applied, or didn't, to Jedi acting outside the borders of the Republic.

"I presume you are prepared to use this reasoning on the Council when we are inevitably caught?"

"Of course."

Obi-Wan smiled as he shook his head. He had absolutely no intention of listening to Anakin's plan to sneak back into the Temple. Irritating, because few Jedi were as expert at infiltrating the Temple unseen as Anakin was. Between pit races as a child and ensuring Ahsoka had an education in the same, regardless of whether the Order approved, he was quite adept at avoiding patrols and using the security blindspots of the Temple.

The biggest hindrance in years past had been his own presence. Untempered youth had made him a star-like beacon of roiling Force energy. If Miraj had given him anything, it was the discipline to contain that energy. It was an odd feeling, being able to walk up behind Obi-Wan and catch him unawares, invisibility he'd never thought he'd be capable of.

He had to concentrate now to allow Obi-Wan to sense him, to give him back that piece of himself.

Obi-Wan was no longer paying attention, mouth pressed into a dour frown and furrow between his brows as he watched the holonews. Anakin tensed despite himself.

Padme had blocked the holonews receptor not long after Anakin walked in on her watching the morning broadcast – in deference to his sensitivities, he was sure. He'd waffled on the idea of slicing through the block before deciding that it didn't really matter much. He didn't care what they were saying about him.

"I thought you were okay with possession now," Anakin said loudly, drawing Obi-Wan's gaze back to him. He smiled cheekily. "Or is that only of people?"

Obi-Wan didn't seem to find that funny.

"If you want your droid back, you are going to the Temple alone," Obi-Wan snapped.

Anakin's good humor fled him, eyes slipping toward the table. He nodded.

"Of course –" he bit his tongue, correcting the word before it came out, "Obi-Wan, I'm sorry."

Obi-Wan reached across the table to cover his hand. He could feel the other man's apology in the Force and shied from it, shaking his head fractionally. The mistake was his and Obi-Wan was right to rebuke him for it.

Anakin search for a new topic as Obi-Wan looked again to the holonews. It wasn't distressing, whatever it was. Maybe it was just a sportscast. He didn't need to know.

"How long do you think Padme will put up with us?" he asked.

"With me?" Obi-Wan asked, wry smile on his lips. "I think she will kindly toss me out in a week or so. However, you are another matter. I think she would happily endure you for a lifetime."

Anakin swallowed deeply.

"Don't say that kind of thing – it's not fair and it's not true."

"If you have closed yourself to the Force so thoroughly that you cannot sense what the Senator feels for you, Anakin, then I think you do need a mind healer after all," Obi-Wan said.

Anakin didn't know where Obi-Wan got these ideas, but it was highly annoying.

He slouched petulantly and glared past Obi-Wan, looking out the window. Most of the pedestrians were workers heading home, but the glimmers of Coruscanti night life were beginning to appear. Crowds of young beings, decked out in cheap but glossy outfits, passed by in occasional clumps. One man, a tall and thin Devaronian startled as he recognized Anakin, turning quickly to his companions to point him out. Anakin moved his hand out from under Obi-Wan's to shade his face, grimacing at the attention. He could feel their fascination and titillation, thickly invasive and clinging uncomfortably to Anakin in the Force. Obi-Wan didn't even know how wrong he was about Anakin. He wasn't cut off at all; he'd just learned how to cut people off from him.

"Perhaps we should take our leave," Obi-Wan murmured.

Anakin bristled at the suggestion.

"I'm fine. They're already gone."

Obi-Wan hadn't even noticed the Devaronian outside. Anakin turned warily toward the holobroadcast flickering against the wall beyond the lunch counter. The reporter was one of the few Anakin recognized – a pretty Bothan with shining, exquisite fur even the blue light of the holo couldn't diminish. Though he had to say he'd soured on furry species in the recent past. She was a celebrity reporter, but a respected one who didn't tend to focus on salacious, unconfirmed details.

So, whatever she has on me is verified, he thought unhappily.

The holo was split between her polished news persona and an old battle still of Anakin himself, the subtitles outlining the well-known basics of his accomplishments.

"As I said," Obi-Wan interjected.

Anakin jerked his head to look at him just long enough to see him swipe one finger along the arch of his eyebrow – a silent signal to Dex that they'd need the back entrance. Anakin didn't see the old Besalisk anywhere, but he knew well enough to realize that didn't mean anything. Soon enough he heard Dex muttering from nearby, grunting as he worked his bulk behind the bar. It took a moment of effort and he sucked in his gut as he sidled past a swiftly moving server droid and then he was loudly and gregariously announcing a happy hour special.

Obi-Wan nodded a surreptitious thanks to him and stood. He turned without another thought, assuming Anakin was right behind him.

But Anakin was busy watching the holo that the customers were ignoring in their haste to capitalize on Dex's offer.

The Bothan had disappeared. Full holovid played instead, unsubtitled, but Anakin knew the words well enough. He remembered kneeling before Miraj, weight of bejeweled clothes she'd selected for him bearing him down even further. Her hand on his head: light, as a benediction.

She couldn't know the knighthood ceremony of the Jedi. She hadn't. But when she made him belong to her, sealing it with a kiss as she joined him on that stone tile floor – never bidding him to rise, never, but willing to momentarily sink to his level – he knew everything she did was a desecration to what he was and deliberately so.

"That's not from security footage," he said hoarsely.

Obi-Wan was at his side, hand on his back to urge him toward the door.

"It is not. She transmitted several holos back to the Republic."

Anakin shook himself, turning to look at Obi-Wan in horror.

"They were kept classified," Obi-Wan said, though it was paltry reassurance. "I do not know who has leaked this to the press, but I am sure they will pay dearly for it. Now come, before anyone notices."

They slipped from the diner, out the back door that led to a surprisingly disgusting alleyway. Obi-Wan wrinkled his nose in distaste as Anakin backed himself to the wall, head cocked to the side as he listened for the reaction inside the diner. He could barely hear through the door and ground his teeth together in frustration, reaching into the Force to amplify his hearing. All he was getting was eager happiness about the Jawa Juice two for one.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan urged. "The speeder isn't far."

"She saw, didn't she? They weren't classified by the Order. The Senate did that."

Obi-Wan sighed and Anakin looked at him, angry at himself for the weak, trembling feeling he had inside.

"Yes," Obi-Wan acknowledged after a long moment. "Not all of the Senate has seen them. A few key committees, but I know Senator Amidala sits on at least one of them."

Not that it mattered. She'd made her feelings clear, no matter what Obi-Wan said. Anakin brushed the thought aside, focusing instead on Obi-Wan. The thread of their Force bond was there, quietly seeking, but he couldn't reach for it. He met Obi-Wan's eyes, breathing more evenly as he watched emotions flicker across Obi-Wan's face, honest and unrestrained. He had this. Obi-Wan gave this to him now.

"She called me consort," Anakin blurted out.

"Not slave?"

"Not slave," Anakin whispered. "Husband is not for off worlders. But consort…"

"Means the same thing."

Anakin laughed. It wasn't at all the same, least of all to Zygerrians. But Miraj kissed him when she said the word, said it as she soothed away the wounds left by the lash. She said it when they lay together in bed and he saw the meaning behind the word in her eyes. It was as close as she could come to love.

"It wasn't love," Obi-Wan said sternly. Anakin startled. He wasn't sure if he'd let that thought through – hadn't even been aware that his mind was open enough to Obi-Wan for that to happen. He shivered and tightened his shields so it wouldn't happen again. Obi-Wan look almost incensed as he glared up at him, backing Anakin firmly into the wall. "Whatever she did and whatever she said, Anakin, it wasn't love."

"I know."

Obi-Wan was so close, his eyes vivid with anger.

"I know," Anakin repeated. He wasn't going to convince Obi-Wan with words, he knew that much. He cupped Obi-Wan's jaw, relishing the harsh, bristly feel of his beard. He caught his breath as he tilted his head down to meet Obi-Wan in a kiss. "This is love."


	5. Chapter 5

Obi-Wan awoke with a jolt, panic settled around his shoulders and carving a deep, cold pit in his belly. He stared at the barely familiar room, the decorative holos of faraway waterfalls and verdant meadows, the unshaded window, the rucked up sheets pulled from the bed. He put his hand to the bare mattress. Half the bed, more than.

He exhaled softly at he closed his eyes.

Anakin had done that in the middle of the night, silently rising from the bed to all but rip the sheets out and for once not to cocoon himself up. He didn't say why, but Obi-Wan knew. He could feel the difference, the remembered roughness of military issue bedding as opposed to the fine material he lay on now.

The implication of why Anakin could not bear the sensation was troubling, but Obi-Wan put it aside. Anakin was here. He could not sense him, even now, but he was here.

The panic eased and his heartbeat evened out.

He'd almost grown used to it, he mused, as he stood from the bed. Fear as a way of life. Certainly not the Jedi way, and yet it had become and undeniable feature of each day for him. He woke and he feared for Anakin. Simple truths that did not become bearable in their constancy.

His clothes had been discarded on the floor, ending up under the tangle of sheets half pulled from the bed. He crouched to extract them, folding the tunics over his knee as he searched for his underclothes.

Dressing had been a meditation once. It could be again. Obi-Wan located the majority of his clothes, dressing with a measured care that helped to still the unpleasant, nagging thoughts that twisted the Force all out of shape around him. If he kept this up, Anakin would sense the disturbance and come looking.

It was not as embarrassing a thought as it should have been.

Obi-Wan pushed the thought away. He was a Jedi Master – this morning, at least. The Council might well have a different opinion on the matter by the day's end.

He smoothed down the layers of his tunic, cheating a bit to hold them secure with the Force, and wound his belt around his waist. The weight of his lightsaber was a comfort as it knocked against his hip. He exhaled, looking across the room to the windows. He could see the many streams of traffic of the city-planet, converging in the distance. And, above them, his own reflection. His hair was a mess, but he'd noted that it was and that was an improvement from months past.

It would do, he decided.

If he did not truly feel like a Jedi, then that was hardly new. He hadn't in some time. After admitting what he had to Anakin, he was not sure he ever could feel himself to be a true Jedi again in this lifetime.

He brushed the thought aside, but did not release it into the Force. It was a matter to meditate on later. For now he tucked it away and combed his fingers through his hair, straightening his shoulders as he strode out of Padme's guest room to find Anakin.

"What do you call this?" a voice asked curiously, echoing across the spacious living area.

Obi-Wan cocked his head as he followed the sound to the kitchen. The voice was not Padme's, but Obi-Wan could sense her presence with the other woman's – a handmaiden, he was sure. Another was with them, clouded in the Force the way only Anakin currently was. Obi-wan's pulse raced as he struggled to pin down his sense of the man. His touch slid off like water on glass, a feeling of reflection and distortion as he tried to feel Anakin in the Force.

His vision swam as he concentrated, trying to move past the obvious shielding, but Anakin – surely him, no one else had that power, no one else was present – deflected him with a sharpness that was almost painful.

"They're – Obi-Wan!" Anakin cut off his explanation to greet Obi-Wan happily as he came to the threshold of the kitchen. He refocused, breathing steadying as he looked at Anakin. His presence was unyielding in its separation from him, at odds with Anakin's expression. He looked Obi-Wan up and down, eyebrows raised. "Got in your beauty rest, didn't you?"

Padme leaned against the counter next to Anakin as he cooked some kind of hot cake on a griddle, observing the process with interest. Her handmaiden was on her other side and had clearly come to attention when Obi-Wan entered, watching him silently.

"I mean you no harm," he told her and she flushed in embarrassment.

"Of course not, Master Jedi," she said. "I meant no offense."

"I am sure he is not offended, Dorme," Padme said. She threw Obi-Wan an oddly hard look and he frowned slightly. He'd no intention of saying otherwise, of course, and heartily appreciated her hospitality. "It seems you woke just in time, Obi-Wan."

He nodded, puzzled by her response.

Anakin finished with his cooking, dishing up plates that Dorme swooped in to take before Obi-Wan could offer, and then turned to catch Obi-Wan's eye. He smiled and flickered his fingers at Obi-Wan's hair.

"I think there is a high likelihood that Padme possesses combs. She would probably even lend you one."

Obi-Wan grumped at that.

"Quite rich coming from you."

Anakin shrugged one shoulder. Though Obi-Wan could say this did seem to settle one of their old arguments definitively. Anakin had, in fact, heard of combs and did know their purpose. His hair, then, was his own responsibility and if he looked disheveled – which he did – then it was his own fault. Even if it did suit him.

"Come here," Anakin said softly.

His hand was light on Obi-Wan's cheek and regardless of Padme's presence, he found he could not resist. He stepped into Anakin's arms, face tilted up to press a lingering kiss to Anakin's mouth.

The Force rattled with sudden disquiet and, despite himself, Obi-Wan pulled out of Anakin's embrace.

Padme was looking at them, expression unreadable, though her hands were clenched into fists, twisting the silk of her dressing gown. Were the material any more delicate, Obi-Wan was quite sure she would have torn it already.

"Anakin, would you leave us for a moment?" Obi-Wan asked without looking.

There was a quick burst of fury, almost enough to turn Obi-Wan from his intent stare down with Padme, and then hard footsteps as Anakin left the room.

Padme shook herself lightly as she broke away from Obi-Wan's gaze, brow furrowed as she watched Anakin go.

"He listens to you," she whispered. She wound her arms around herself as if fighting off a chill.

Obi-Wan pressed his lips together, aware of how carefully he would need to navigate this conversation. Already the words had come to him, already he'd needed to hold them back – to say that Anakin was his Padawan, that he'd always been taught to listen to Obi-Wan was not the correct answer. He knew that.

"He does," he agreed, instead.

Padme turned in place, swallowing deeply as she looked over his features.

"I don't know much of the Jedi," she said. "Nor what he has been through."

"Correct on both counts, my lady."

Anger flashed in her eyes, but he did not regret the barb. He had already sacrificed everything he believed for Anakin. He planned full well to fight for this.

"Is this new?" Padme asked.

He exhaled as he crossed his arms, leaning back against the doorjamb opposite her.

"Not at all."

"When he was an apprentice – at Varykino –"

He held up one hand to cut her off. She'd stepped forward, pushing forward into his personal space as well as she could. She hardly loomed, but she did have presence, she did have force and authority on her side, the dignity both of her station and her honest concern.

"I have loved him for a long time," Obi-Wan said, tone measured. Padme stopped breathing as she stared at him. She knew little of the Jedi, but more than enough to understand this. What she had denied Anakin and herself, founded on the very doctrine he now defied. "Not like this, my lady, but in some way, in violation of my vows … that is not new."

Her lip trembled as she looked away until she forced calm onto her features.

"I hope you know what you're doing," she said fiercely. "Do not hurt him."

Obi-Wan passed a hand over his face, pulling on his beard, and he watched her push past him to the dining area. He could hear Anakin greet her, the joy that so easily gave away his feelings for Padme absent from his voice. Obi-Wan felt a twist of pain in his chest. He did not mean to change Anakin. For all that it had been his purpose as a Jedi, he'd never truly been able to apply himself to it.

He would strive to follow Padme's advice as well as he could, he thought firmly. If only he did know what he was doing.

* * *

Obi-Wan could feel Anakin's eyes on him as he paced. Given the opportunity, he would follow the entire circuit around the outer hall of the Tranquility Spire. He had, as a child, soon after being appointed Qui-Gon's apprentice. The Council reached out to younglings often. They did not wish to seem as forbidding and grandiose he knew Anakin believed them to be, but even so, it had only been his third time ascending all the way to the Council Chamber. The solemnity of ceremony disappeared entirely once he and Qui-Gon were freed of the Council's supervision and he'd run joyous circles, peering out the windows at intervals and shooting grins to his newfound Master.

That was decidedly not how he felt now.

"If they've made up their minds," Anakin said. He stood with a stillness entirely unlike him, posture straight and arms folded across his chest. "Then I don't think wearing a rut in the stone is going to change them."

"I don't know about that. Perhaps, I could trap Master Rancisis in a trench, upsetting the balance of votes entirely. Why, they may not even have a proper quorum to expel me."

"You'll just have to step up and take your place, then. Wouldn't want to delay the vote."

Obi-Wan turned to quirk his eyebrows at Anakin. He did appreciate the attempt at levity.

"I don't believe that is how it works."

Anakin looked back at him in silence for a long moment. It was an odd wonder and not one that Obi-Wan particularly enjoyed, for him to be so entirely consumed by unbidden energy while Anakin watched him in meditative calm. Of course, Anakin had already proposed that they simply steal a fleet and do whatever they wanted, so he supposed Anakin was largely past the point of actually caring what the Council said or did.

And while that too seemed uncharacteristic of Anakin, it wasn't relevant to his own concerns. He had little hope of remaining a Jedi. He could acknowledge that his conduct, let alone his spiritual connection with the Force, bore no resemblance to that of a Jedi Master. But there were serious military matters afoot now, brought up by Anakin himself.

He was not pacing because he worried what the Council would say when he stood before them. He was pacing because Cody had not yet transmitted the sliced Zygerrian security footage to him and he had no idea what he would say to Anakin when he viewed it.

What did it mean to the galaxy if Dooku was dead? If the Hero With No Fear had killed him in cold blood, for the sake of a slaver, after slightly over a day in her custody?

What did it mean if Dooku lived and Anakin had merely hallucinated the entire affair?

That he would be glad to steal away from the Republic in Anakin's company was not in doubt. As selfish as he was, however, he knew the consequences could be dire both for the war and for Anakin.

Anakin shifted on his feet as the lift up to the Council Chamber opened, while Obi-Wan snapped his head around, eyes following the motion suspiciously. The presence of the Council was contained, as ever, but their luminous power bled into their surroundings unconsciously.

Most Jedi found it to be soothing.

Obi-Wan's comlink chirruped just as Anakin entered the chamber, making him pause before following. He frowned at Cody's timing and then banished his irritation into the Force.

If nothing else, viewing the recording together would do a great deal to make his case to the Council that he had no other choice regarding Anakin. Either eventuality highlighted how important Anakin was to the cause and how dire a circumstance he had been left in.

He relayed commands to Cody to send the files along to the command center at the base of the spire and then followed Anakin into the chamber, bowing deeply to the Council as the Force humming with their disapproval.

Anakin, despite his previous calm, had gone wan, hands tucked into his sleeves as he stepped closer to Obi-Wan.

"What was that about?" he asked in a nervous undertone.

Obi-Wan shook his head, instead addressing the Council.

"My apologies. I have no excuse, Masters." He put on a sparkling smile. "What matter have you called me to address?"

Mace Windu narrowed his eyes while Plo made the softly rumbling sound that was a Kel Dor sigh. Yoda gave him a jaundiced look, accompanied by a quick rap across the knuckles in the Force.

It was something of a relief when Shaak Ti was the one to speak. Her holo broadcast folded its hands in its lap, eyeline aimed at Obi-Wan with unerring accuracy, though he knew the camera was unlikely to be positioned in a representation of where stood.

"You are aware of the charges you face, Master Kenobi," she said. Placid curiosity knit her brow as she studied him, continuing, "What do you say to them?"

"I have done precisely as the Force willed me to," he replied honestly.

"The Force, or your attachment?" Yoda questioned.

"I have come to believe that my attachments are in furtherance of the Force's will," Obi-Wan replied. A wave of shock rippled around the room – the strongest wave coming from right beside him. The crack in Anakin's shields was almost satisfaction enough, but Obi-Wan put that brief joy aside, stepping forward and looking around the room, secure and confident in his profession of newfound faith. Or, he supposed, heresy. It all depended on one's point of view. "I undertook actions to rescue Anakin because I care for him as no Jedi should, in defiance of the Code. But I was not wrong to do so. I was awakened by the Force itself, driven by its need, my need, to have him back within these Temple walls."

He spread his hands. It was this simple for him.

"Anakin is the Chosen One. Not only does the war need him, the Jedi Order needs him. I could not simply leave him in the custody of a slaver. It speaks ill of the Council that any of you could."

Mace grimaced.

"That was unnecessary," Shaak Ti said stridently. "All Jedi are of worth to us, but we must consider the consequences of each decision in this war."

The implicit admonition was enough. They too believed Anakin was the Chosen One and was special – but to say that somehow meant he deserved special regard was going too far. Whereas Obi-Wan was now convinced of the opposite. To be attached to the Chosen One was only right and natural. That it went as deep as love was a gift of the Force.

"In the time after the Open Circle Fleet left position over Malastare, we lost two cruisers – Intrepid and Victory," Mace said. His face was a placid mask, but his disapproval thrummed in the Force. Jedi were dead due to Obi-Wan's actions and he would not let him soon forget it.

"Kit's ships," Anakin said.

Mace nodded and Anakin shifted awkwardly. He had no reason to feel guilt, but Obi-Wan knew there would be no reaching out to him in the Force to reassure him. Even if he could, it was beyond inappropriate to do so in front of the Council regarding his own crimes.

"He was aboard, as were two thousand of his troops and several hundred officers," Mace explained. "Diverting ships so that Malastare itself did not fall cost the siege at Ryloth heavily. Had your rescue taken any longer, I do not think we could have held either planet."

"You speak of possibility," Plo Koon interjected. "Not of fact."

Mace shot him an irritated look before turning back to Obi-Wan and Anakin.

"The fact is that you disobeyed orders, Obi-Wan. The results of that lay on your conscience, as well as on our minds."

"That is entirely true, Masters, and something I am willing to live with."

The Council Chamber dimmed in the Force, the Masters containing their reactions. That alone was a bad sign. The Force prodded at him in careful, quick glances, each colored with the measured disquiet of a Council Member.

"Tell them what I told you," Anakin said loudly.

He was trying to fill the vacant space. There was little Anakin hated more than Jedi hiding themselves away in the Force. He'd always been more sensitive to the sensation than most. Even to Obi-Wan, it felt merely like silence, or distance, but Anakin had complained more than once that it was like he was watching the people in front of him drop off the face of the planet.

Ironic, given that he now maintained his presence to Obi-Wan in the exact same way.

"Your gratitude, immaterial it is," Yoda said. He waved his gimer stick at Obi-Wan, pointing. "Serious your Master's actions were."

"I'm not grateful," Anakin snapped. Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows, turning to look at Anakin who immediately rocked back on his feet, pulling a face. "I mean, I am. But that's not what I told Obi-Wan."

"Perhaps, you should," Luminara said.

Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes in her direction and she met his gaze with indifference. Her sense of humor always left something to be desired for him and he knew the feeling was mutual. He fully respected her place on the Council and had supported the decision to raise her to that position after the death of Master Mundi just a month before, but he still found himself slightly startled by her presence. She was Jedi enough to put the past friction between them aside while making decisions, he knew. But that itself made him wary. All of the Masters on the Council were true Jedi and all the more likely to judge him as anything but.

Anakin turned to Obi-Wan instead.

"You got the holo, didn't you? That was what Cody commed you about."

"Your actions are not at issue here, Anakin," Obi-Wan said. He wanted to give Anakin a way out of this. The Council needed to see the holo but he was still unsure if this was the time or place. Leveraging Anakin's actions to argue for his place in the Order had never been his intention. "Are you sure?"

Anakin nodded once, sharply, and then glowered out at the Council. It would have looked more intimidating if he were not slouching into his cloak at the same time.

"Master Plo, if you would contact the war room downstairs," Obi-Wan requested.

"What is this about?" Master Coleman Kcaj asked. He folded his long, tentacle like fingers under his chin as he peered at Obi-Wan. "Holos don't change what you did, Kenobi."

Obi-Wan smiled at him.

"Change? Indeed, I think you'll find that rescuing Anakin has changed everything. I assert that I was called upon by the Force to act. I am aware that in these difficult times the Force is often clouded, our future as an Order uncertain.

"What this holo will show to you is the sheer breadth of our ignorance in the Force, Masters. Without my actions, we might never have learned that Count Dooku is dead," he pronounced.

He very much hoped the holo actually reflected his words.

Murmuring came over the Council, accompanied by dread. Plo dropped his hand heavily onto his arm rest, the transmission of the holo up to the Council Chamber complete, while Depa, Shaak Ti, and Oppo Rancisis exchanged looks of surprise.

"That is not possible," Mace said. But even he looked uncertain.

"You will see the truth," Obi-Wan told him.

"I presume that is my cue?" Plo asked and Obi-Wan inclined head to the man, glad they were on the same page.

"Enhance it," Anakin said before the picture even fully finished resolving. The holo sharpened and enlarged, though it was still half the size of the holo projected Council Members. Anakin made a sound of frustration, quickly cut off as he looked up and remembered whose presence he was in.

"Zygerria?" Mace asked. He sat forward in his chair, face set in a deep frown as he looked over the holo. "It's quite different from the Queen's transmissions."

Obi-Wan was tempted to kneel, to hunch in front of the holo and peer into its depths, but he was busily pretending he knew precisely what was about to unfold, so he remained upright, arms crossed as challenge, though he could not resist studying every detail of the holo.

Most of Scintel's transmissions had been of Anakin in a public or highly intimate setting. Many showed him at her slave auctions, sitting at her side in a decorated lounge chair. Obi-Wan recalled only one of those where Anakin appeared cognizant of the proceedings, his expression tight with anger. It cut off abruptly and he could only speculate as to why Miraj found it appropriate to send on – to show that no matter his protests or anger, he remained within her grasp, he supposed. The others showed him limp and languid, head pillowed on her knee as she conducted business.

Others were of her bed chamber, thankfully lacking in even as much detail as the auction holos.

But it was only the leaked transmission that aired on HNN that depicted them together in the throne room. And now this one as well.

Obi-Wan wondered which had come first.

The holo was full color, as Scintel's transmissions always were, though it was drawn from the security footage instead. She had the money to spare, Obi-Wan supposed, and more than enough enemies to warrant the best surveillance system available.

The walls were high, with lush plants climbing up them. Obi-Wan remembered the sharp smell of their perfumes – not at all as calming or rich as the picture implied. Zygerria's plant life was aggressive rather than seductive and had not been surprised to learn in his mission files that the thornlily cultivar ascending her throne room walls exuded acidic sap in addition to the unpleasant smell.

Scintel and Anakin stood as small figures picked out against the soft, rosy light that spilled into the throne room through her mosaic windows. The angle showed neither faces, nor much of their clothes. Posture alone gave indication that this was not like the other broadcasts. Anakin stood under his own power, tense and aware of what unfolded before him.

Dooku sat on Scintel's throne, unlit lightsaber laid across his lap.

"I do not tolerate disobedience," Dooku intoned. "You have broken with every term of our agreement."

Scintel bristled visibly.

"Our agreement? My conditions change at my will – you can agree to that or not, I care little for your opinions. But know," she spat, "I serve no man."

"You do. Though serve me a day longer you shall not."

Dooku stood and ignited his lightsaber as he descended the stairs from Scintel's throne. His head turned to the side as he looked over Anakin.

"Minister Atai warned me of your distasteful affection for this whelp. Already, it has cost you the slaves of Kyros as well as Kenobi. Soon, it will cost you your life."

She detached her electrowhip from her belt and uncoiled the lash with her hand. Anakin stepped to her side, stilling the motion with a hand on her wrist. He bent to whisper something in her ear and she relaxed.

His lightsaber hung from her belt. Calmly, she reached down to detach it and laid it into Anakin's hand.

Obi-Wan felt a chill watching them. It was his own emotion and it was also the Force, gone cold with the horror of the assembled Masters. They contained their own reactions swiftly, but that left the Force in unnatural calm, placid and removed of all feeling when instead the thoughts and feelings of the Jedi should have shimmered evanescent and innocent across its surface.

He angled his head to look at Anakin. No one was more locked down than he was, even his expression flat, frozen with a calm Obi-Wan was sure he did not feel. His eyes were unfocused, looking inward rather than at the holo.

"You made a mistake coming here, Dooku," Anakin said in the holo recording.

Dooku laughed.

"A most ironic statement," he replied. "You are entertaining enough, I will grant you that."

He brandished his blade, flourishing it in a traditional salute before moving to a guard position. Anakin was swift to attack, as he always was, beginning with hard, powerful strikes. He fought in the classic Djem So he favored, aggressive and hard, while Miraj prowled the perimeter of their fight.

She twisted the lash through her fingers. Obi-Wan was sure she smiled.

"Stop the recording," Anakin said. He'd turned ashen, expression suddenly blazing with fury and fear. He looked between the Council members desperately, extending himself in the Force even as they shied from him. "I can explain."

"A difficult situation, you were in," Yoda said. He rubbed a claw over his chin, ears quivering as he thought. "Mm, very difficult."

It was an excuse Anakin did not want.

He tore his gaze away, looking to Mace instead.

"When was this?" Mace asked.

"After," Anakin said with some difficulty. "After I agreed to stay."

"And that is your explanation, is it not?" Plo Koon said.

Anakin nodded jerkily.

"It's Dooku," he added. "I thought – I thought even if I had to stay on Zygerria, I wouldn't let him off the planet. I wouldn't let him continue fighting the Republic. If it was the last…"

He stopped and shook his head, exhaling heavily. He brought his hand up, to cover his eyes or rub at his temples, and instead clenched it before dropping it to his side.

"If thought I should kill him, even it was the last thing I ever did as a Jedi," he said after a long pause, eyes open and fierce, jaw set as he looked at Mace directly.

"All lives have value," Shaak Ti said. "Scintel among them, as well as Dooku."

"If you would come to a point… "Obi-Wan said.

She cocked her head to the side, watching him with mild reproach that was clear even through the holo transmission.

"I – it wasn't like that with her," Anakin protested.

"You didn't kill for her?" Luminara asked. Her voice was soft, expression blunt as she raked over Anakin. Her words came as a relief to Obi-Wan. She at least was willing to broach the topic directly.

Anakin's lips parted, but he had no response to that. He tucked his hands into his sleeves, uncertainty on his face as he looked down at the floor.

Obi-Wan felt a surge of anger and protectiveness. He flicked two fingers at Plo.

"Double speed, if you would."

Plo took little offense at the gesture which made Obi-Wan feel immediate shame. Of all things, however, he was determined not to care in this. He released the feeling into the Force, steadied by his decades of discipline and the newfound surety he had found in his heart.

The holo progressed before them, movements quick even as they remained clear. Anakin fought Dooku across the length of the throne room, refined fencing technique giving way to brutal violence. Anakin kicked the older man in the knee, hobbling him for a brief period, before Dooku beat him back, lashing out with Force lightning to subdue Anakin. He convulsed under the blinding, pulsing electricity, his lightsaber falling from limp fingers.

He was on his knees when Scintel came to his rescue, unwilling to let her prize go so easily.

Scintel maneuvered behind Dooku, lightwhip active and sizzling with a haze of red energy, before cracked the whip out at him. It fell heavily on his back and he stumbled with pain. Smoke swirled off his cape as he turned on her, catching the next blow with his lightsaber and pulling the lightwhip from her grip.

The opening was brief, but distinct even on the double speed holo. Anakin recovered from the lightning enough to stumble back to his feet. Miraj's lightwhip flew into his hand and he pulled the lash tight, end wrapped around his mechanical hand as he lunged at Dooku to get the whip around the man's neck.

Dooku struggled as the lightwhip activated and Anakin grimaced at pain. Smoke rose from seared flesh before Dooku's body dropped, leaving Anakin panting as he looked at Scintel.

The holocam was not angled to show Scintel's expression, but no one assembled had any doubt of the pride, the satisfaction, on her face.

"This changes a great deal," Plo Koon said. He paused the holo and manipulated the controls to repeat the brief sequence of Dooku's death. "A great deal."

Obi-Wan did not relax. His point was made. Even at the great cost that rescuing Anakin had come, there was no arguing that it was not worthwhile. This discovery was far too important, point to a pivotal change in the galaxy and a dearth of intelligence crippling the Jedi's prosecution of the war. All his misdeeds would be measured against that, as well as his own confession.

But it was not reassuring because he had seen what Anakin would do next. In that moment, that split second just before Plo froze the holo, the subtle but obvious bend of Anakin's knees, the way his eyes went to the floor. He said he did not kill Dooku for Miraj Scintel, but Obi-Wan was not sure of that at all.

Not when he knelt for her so readily.

* * *

Obi-Wan came to a standstill in the great hall, in an expanse that fell under the wide windows leading out into the Temple gardens. He could see the red blossoms of the trees outside, blowing in an unusual wind. The enormous statue of Jedi Maste Limmu loomed over head, his levitational prowess bolstered by very clever applications of repulsorlifts.

Anakin stood across the stone floor, leaning casually against one of the columns as he spoke with a young knight: Luminara's former Padawan, Barriss Offee.

As nice as it would have been to see Anakin catching up with any Jedi at all – Anakin fielding well-wishers among the many distant, yet otherwise pleasant acquaintances he had in the Order was a dissonant idea but one Obi-Wan hoped for nonetheless – the point remained that when Anakin had been dismissed from the Council chamber it had been to the Halls of Healing. Not the Garden Path.

Anakin perked up and half turned as he sensed Obi-Wan's presence. Barriss folded her hands in front of her and lowered her eyes briefly in respect. Newly minted as she was, she seemed even more prone to demonstrations of deference than she had before, though perhaps Obi-Wan was merely comparing her too favorably to Anakin. He'd certainly not remembered his manners in front of Masters at all once he was knighted.

"Finished?" he asked when Obi-Wan was nearly at his side. He slanted a wry look to the Barriss, implying a friendly familiarity Obi-Wan knew he did not have with her. She'd always been more Ahsoka's friend than his own. "Obi-Wan thought it was going to be bad."

"I should think you know the Council better than that," Obi-Wan replied stiffly.

They had determined that they needed to meditate on matters, but Obi-Wan could sense the balance of their sentiment clearly enough. His actions were worrying; his philosophy heretical. They were pondering not whether to expel him, but merely when. They voiced plans to him of passing along the footage of Dooku's death to the Senate and the Chancellor, as well as all branches of the military service. That might well allay Tre'Nau's will toward court martial, though that was by no means certain.

Against that, he felt they would defend him. And then very kindly turn him out onto the streets, with all the delicacy they possessed because they dearly wished to keep Anakin as they rid themselves of him.

Well, that was the crux of the fight and Obi-Wan knew he had better leverage than they. He at least knew where he stood with Anakin.

And, at the moment, it was with a blithe and avoidant Anakin who pretended he was in the Temple for a social call.

"I do hope the Council rules in your favor, Master," Barriss said quietly. Her eyes were bright, unsettlingly so as they fixed on his face.

Obi-Wan paused before inclining his head in thanks. There was deeper meaning to her words, something ominous and dark. He was no longer privy to Temple gossip, but the murmurs had followed him and Anakin both as they entered the building. He had presumed it was judgment, anger. He had done what they never did, no matter what they wished. It would have been quite understandable that they resented Obi-Wan for stealing a fleet to pursue his own personal cause when they had so often set aside their feelings to fulfill their duties.

It seemed he was wrong.

"My thanks, Barriss. I am sure the Force will guide the Council to embrace the right path – for all the Order."

"You have much confidence in them," she replied. She smiled suddenly and again seemed like the placid, agreeable girl Obi-Wan had come to know as Ahsoka's friend. "I am quite sure it is well deserved. I shall leave you two to discuss matters."

Obi-Wan watched as she left, her soft boots making little sound on the stone floor. He could not say he want to be the fulcrum on which revolution among the Jedi turned. He had no desire for treason or to set a new course for the war effort – beyond, of course, taking into account the news that Dooku was dead and the Separatists miraculously not adrift in his absence.

Yet he'd confessed his love in front of the Council, whole heartedly and without inhibition. He did feel guided by the Force itself and, despite himself, knew it rumbled with the thunder of change. Whether the Jedi were ready or not, he had seen that their ways would not stand the ages. They had behaved wrongly for some time and he could no longer follow that path.

Anakin stepped close to him, expression curious. Obi-Wan flashed him a quick smile as he put his hand to Anakin's back, his reality and presence grounding his thoughts of the Force. It was all one.

He let go his worries about the Order's future and simply stood in Anakin's company. The moment flowed around him and Obi-Wan felt nearly calm, warmed by the Temple essence itself.

And like all things, it passed.

"So. The Halls of Healing look quite different." Obi-Wan made a show of looking around, clucking his tongue as he pointed to Master Limmu. "Gaudy, too."

Anakin gave an aggrieved sigh.

"Obi-Wan..."

"No," Obi-Wan replied sharply. "At the very least, your arm can be looked at. No further excuses, Anakin."

The Coruscanti sun illuminated the hall, angling with mirrors outside the Temple to create an illusion of everlasting light. It brightened corners that would otherwise be left in shadow. There were only portions of the Temple that were not so manipulated – nature and balance required the cycle of each light and dark. But this corridor, below the Tower of Tranquility, was somewhat different.

Obi-Wan quite liked it as it gave Anakin little means to hide, either the thoughts plain on his face or the weariness still plaguing him.

For all that Anakin had been rather compliant to Obi-Wan's orders in the last few days, this was one he was eager to fight, his face screwed up in complaint.

"I'm _fine_. What's he going to do for me that Emdee won't? It's just a bacta brace. In fact..." Anakin stretched out his arm and shoved the sleeve of his robe up, working the small latches on the brace himself. He didn't do it quite one-handed; Obi-Wan could feel the movement of the Force as Anakin used it to hold the brace until it opened and he let it fall, clattering to the floor. He rotated his arm and gave Obi-Wan a cocky, challenging look. "There. All better. Time to head back."

Obi-Wan pressed his lips into a thin line.

"That is not acceptable, Anakin."

"You haven't said a word about what I did," Anakin snapped back.

"Anakin, I –"

Anakin moved away from him – Obi-Wan felt the loss of contact keenly as Anakin started to pace in agitation, throwing glares his way. For all that he'd taken the brace off, he still held his arm carefully to the side, mechanohand clenched angrily.

"You have nothing to say? I killed him, Obi-Wan. And I did it for her."

"That isn't what you told the Council."

Anakin's laugh made Obi-Wan's stomach drop. The expression on his face was dark and unpleasant, bitter in a way that Anakin never was.

"What else would I tell them, Obi-Wan?"

"I'd hoped it would be the truth," Obi-Wan replied. He shook his head at himself. "I suppose it is unfair to expect that much."

Anakin stopped pacing to stare him, eyes wide and vulnerable.

He'd said the wrong thing.

"I did not intend that the way it sounded," Obi-Wan said hurriedly.

"What's a good way to intend it?" Anakin asked.

Obi-Wan pinched his nose between two fingers, jaw clenched in frustration. He was usually far better at navigating Anakin's sensitivities than this, but he had to admit that the holo had left him quite shaken as well. He'd hoped that Anakin misremembered, if he was entirely honest. It would be so much easier to soothe away mistaken memories wrought by Miraj's drugs than to help the man he loved confront the deeds he'd done in her service – perhaps not willingly, but to ends he nonetheless agreed with.

He was still formulating a response when the clangor of heavily shod, metal toed boots sounded against the Temple floor. Obi-Wan cocked his head, catching Anakin's eye, before they both turned as one.

Temple Guards.

"Excuse me?" Obi-Wan asked. He placed his hands on his hips, just above his belt, frowning at the four guards in turn. "Is there a disturbance of the Temple peace?"

It the Council had decided to summarily toss him off the Temple grounds, he would have thought they'd say so personally, at minimum.

Typical of the Guards, they remained silent, gaze and perception penetrating in the Force. Obi-Wan met the masked gaze of the nearest Guard, neither shoring up his shields nor giving any sign that the raking, invasive inspection rattled him. He was yet a Master of the Order. Perhaps one day he would serve among them, a penitent and a seeker, but at the moment he fully believed he had found the enlightenment he sought.

"Ah, no," said a snuffling, Bith voice. Obi-Wan turned in surprise and put out a restraining arm by instinct, holding Anakin back. "They are merely escorts."

"Grand Admiral Tre'Nau? Are you here to speak with the Council?" Anakin asked. He looked baffled and unsettled, casting confused looks to Obi-Wan, as if he had an explanation.

Obi-Wan had none.

It was unheard of. Outsiders did not come into the Jedi Temple. The Council went to them. On very rare occasions, a Jedi might escort in a personal guest, but that was the extent of it.

"I suppose my actions may merit an audience afterward, yes. However, I am here for a singular purpose."

His black gaze was unreadable, despite Obi-Wan many years and many travels. His puckered mouth pulled into an imitation of a human grin.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi, you are under arrest on the charge of treason."


End file.
